


Proof of Humanity

by TempleMap



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Eren Yeager, Canon Era, Drunken Confessions, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hange Zoë Ships It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Praise Kink, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Manga Spoilers, Switching, Top Eren Yeager, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempleMap/pseuds/TempleMap
Summary: Eren does not set the world on fire.He collapses onto Levi instead.-     -(An alternative telling of SNK’s end).
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 32
Kudos: 435
Collections: 18+ Ereri Discord Server Winter Exchange 2020





	Proof of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shittyfoureyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittyfoureyes/gifts).



> For Sam <3
> 
> If there exists no happy endings, we write one.
> 
> Manga spoilers ahead. However, you do not need to be proficient in the current anime season/manga arc to enjoy this work.
> 
> For those interested, this story begins with what is the linear placement of chapter 134 of the manga. Or, the moment Eren attempts to steal away into Marley on his own.

* * *

##  **_“Make love to me_ **

##  **_like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.”_ **

_“We Were Emergencies,”_ _Gentleman Practice_ _,_ **_Buddy Wakefield_ **

* * *

In another lifetime, in another revolution of history, Levi had grabbed for Eren’s wrist. 

His fingers pressed down into bruises. He felt the heat from Eren’s skin — warm and soft against Levi’s palm; against the calluses of Levi’s fingers that had gone tough and tawny from cuts and blisters and wires.

But, he could feel Eren nevertheless. All of the quick thumping of Eren’s heartbeat, lodged in the artery below the curve of his thumb. He held Eren. Here, in the open air of Liberio. Here, near the white-stone columns that balanced the Marleyan courthouse. 

Here — _and, he did not know this —_ before Eren had left them forever. 

_Could have_ left them forever.

They drink their tea and pretend to not look at one another. 

There’s bitterness on Levi’s tongue: the burnt leaves… the words for Eren he’s left to fester. He’s learned to be careful with him — with Eren. Eren, with his dulled eyes; Eren, with the vacant features; Eren, with his hair now slipping down his neck, growing longer, growing thicker. It’s a sign of age, maybe. Or a sign of an unwillingness to care — the manifestation of a depression that keeps him from a haircut or a decent wash.

But, it makes sense. All this stress. All of this sudden and horrific change that made surviving a food chain seem admirable in nature.

_What a thought._

Levi had dragged them home. Well, not _home_ ; home is that little island separated by three days of sea. Home is the scourge of the world, where beneath the wall’s stone, monsters live and breathe and wait, wait, wait.

So home, for now, is an ambassador’s mansion in Marley; beautiful and complex and grand in its appearance. With things called ‘lamps’ that can burn without fire. With something called a ‘telephone’ that can move a voice across cities.

But most importantly, there’s coffee — thicker in its bitterness, heavier in its caffeine. Kiyomi’s staff serve it in the mornings with a little pitcher of milk: a luxury.

But, Eren can barely stomach tea; Levi knows this. Five years he had watched Eren’s nose crinkle at the taste. So, this afternoon, Levi does not make coffee. He prepares a kettle of black-leaf tea and settles them into the suite Levi had been given.

He’s been on edge; has seen how Eren paces and fidgets. Can recognize the flexing of Eren’s jaw in thought.

And, outside of that Liberian courthouse, Eren had tried to pull away; had thrown his arm back with a narrowing of his brows. But, Levi had gripped him all the harder. He had dragged Eren through the streets.

“I get it.”

The first words to break the silence.

Levi repeats again:

“I get it. That fucker up there rambling… I wanted to do more than just walk out.”

And — like it always is, now — Eren says nothing.

It’s the early afternoon. It’s bright, but the wind is cold. It pushes tree branches against the windows. Little _tap-tap-taps_ that could be mistaken for the striking of a clock. The estate is quiet, otherwise. The pale, yellow wallpaper of the room shines like summer in the sun. The polished oak of the small table reflects their faces. There is a fireplace in the room, unlit. Crisp, white sheets on a large bed. A shuttered door that leads to a washing room — a claw-footed bathtub, a sink with warm water, a toilet that flushes.

Levi isn’t used to this. Has never been. He’s fussy with cleaning — an effect of growing up in filth — but he never expected much in terms of comfort. Even his military rank hadn’t afforded him more than a private room with a small, wooden bedframe and a writing desk that splintered along the edges. That’s all he needed, really. He demanded more from his brand of tea.

So this, all of this — the opulent room, this new country, the idea that, suddenly, there are Eldians and Marleyians, and all those other fucking ‘ _-ians_ ’ — is foreign and uncomfortable.

But Eren in his silence… that is all the same.

Levi sets down his cup. He sighs into his hands.

 _Idiot_. Keep your burdens. Keep your secrets, he thinks. Who was Levi to force or nag? Eren carried the weight of all of them. If all he wanted was privacy, then so be it. Levi had chased him down enough. 

Still—

Hanji had told Levi something, once. Over the dying wick of a candle, had held his gaze and said:

 _‘You don’t treat anyone else like Eren, do you_?’

“Captain,” and Eren rises from his chair. He settles his half-finished tea against the table.

“I’m going to take a walk,” he says. “To clear my head—”

“No.”

Eren blinks. His pretty eyes widen before they narrow.

“…What?”

“Sit down,” says Levi. “I said ‘no.’”

“Captain—”

“You leave this room, I’ll drag you back on your broken legs. Sit down.”

Eren hesitates. The vastness of the space looms around him, yet he’s central in Levi’s sight. _Tall_. Eren’s gotten so tall, Levi thinks. His face has thinned into angles and cheekbones. His shoulders are wider. More square. That naive teenager he was is forever gone, both in soul and in image.

“Eren,” says Levi. “Now.”

Eren relents. But, there’s a stiffness in the action. A coldness to his features as he returns to lean forward in his chair. He pushes his cup away. He points his stinging eyes on Levi.

And Levi snorts.

“You forget what it feels like to be told no?” he asks.

“I haven’t,” says Eren. “I just don’t have anything to say.”

“Do you ever?”

That shuts Eren up. He flinches before his mouth closes. But, that’s not what Levi wants.

What Levi wants—

Eren ablaze; Eren radiant. Honest, and driven, and thrumming with purpose. A light among the wreckage. A living cry into the dark. That toothy smile of divinity, where in the dark night along the barracks, he had told Levi of a song his mother had sung. 

‘ _Maybe someone can play it_ ,’ Eren had said, ‘ _On a piano, or a violin, or I can hum it, you know, when we’re all meant for more than this._ ’ And, Eren’s teeth had shone in the copper street lamps and Levi had felt his own heart speed.

So much has changed. 

“I’ve been leaving the words to Hanji and Armin,” says Levi. “They’re better at it than I am.”

He points a look toward Eren — thinks of stiff reassurances; thinks of Eren’s breath in his face on that rooftop in Shiganshina. Of Levi’s fingers threaded alongside his on that box; the taste of blood tangy in Levi’s mouth; how far Eren’s teeth had flown.

“But,” Levi admits, “I think they’re falling short. Eren—” and Levi had not meant for his own voice to break, but there it is: vulnerable in this single name. “What is it you want to do?”

For a brief moment, Eren’s lips press together. His eyes dip in thought. And yet…

“Whatever is—”

Levi shakes his head.

“‘ _Whatever is best for us_.’ Sure. And then, you’ll parrot the half-assed ideas the rest of them have, even though I know you don’t have faith in them. And, fuck it. I get it. This damn diplomatic mission has only given me grey hairs.”

“I…” trails Eren. His eyes flick to Levi’s head. “Hadn’t noticed.”

_Have you even been looking?_

“In the right lighting,” says Levi. He drags a non-committal hand through the front of his hair.

“I see.”

“Anyway.”

In its porcelain kettle, the tea has grown lukewarm. The steam from its spout has dissipated. There’s barely a dent in Eren’s cup, and the nerves are thudding so quick under Levi’s own skin that the caffeine might as well be worthless.

Maybe, then, to brew tea was an excuse to linger in an old habit. Four years ago, the mornings had been calmer. Wherever they were — campfire or cabin or barracks — Levi could hear the sizzle of a pot of boiling water. Had always found Eren searching for tea leaves in tin cans. 

There is none of that now; hasn’t been for a long time.

“Captain.”

Until Eren spoke, Levi hadn’t realized his own own eyes were pressed against the heels of his palms. He sighs. Groans:

“ _Hm_?”

“I know Hanji and you, and Armin, and everyone else is trying to find a solution. I know you are, but—”

“But, it’s not working,” says Levi. He raises his head and blinks wearily at Eren. “I get that. I know. We’re fucked from every angle.”

Eren frowns.

“So. What do we prioritize?”

“You,” says Levi, and it’s without a beat. Without thought. The answer having long been ingrained into his marrow.

He can hear a stutter of breath escape from Eren’s lips. _What other answer had Eren expected_? There could be none other; to Levi, at least. Was it not obvious?

“I never asked for this,” Eren says weakly.

“I know.”

“I’m just… the idiot son of someone special. And, here I am…” His voice breaks off. Tight.

“I know. So, what then, Eren? What do you want?”

“To just make all this go away. Have just us outside the walls. Not them. Not titans, or Marleyans. Just… Everything we used to be before we opened the basement. That I wouldn’t have to…”

He doesn’t continue further.

Levi’s voice is gentle: “We can’t.”

And that, finally, makes Eren snap. 

“I know!”

Eren throws his hands into his hair. “Fuck!” he hisses. “I know that. You don’t get it, Captain. You don’t get it.”

Levi feels his brow flinch; has that deep pit of annoyance in his stomach like an ulcer. 

_What an stupid thing to say._

“How can I,” asks Levi. “When you don’t open your goddamn mouth?”

“I am now, aren’t I?”

Eren’s looking hysteric. Mouth open in a snarl. Eyes crinkled and mean looking.

But, Levi won’t relent.

“You aren’t saying anything useful.”

“What’s there to say?!”

“Fucking think about it,” and Levi finally feels the edge in his own voice. “You always conveniently pull _something_ out of your ass.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Bullshit,” Levi bites. “Bullshit.”

There’s a squeal — Eren’s chair skidding behind him as he quickly rises.

“Captain,” he says, and there’s ice in his voice. “I’m excusing myself.” 

And then he’s halfway across the room, his fists clenched as he walks toward that big oak door.

And watching Eren, something grips hard in Levi’s throat. It’s a heat that sparks and rises like violence.

_He’s so fucking sick of this._

“Eren.”

Levi doesn’t register standing. He doesn’t register walking over quick — just behind Eren’s heel. But, his mind clicks into place once he’s shoved Eren’s turned shoulder, forcing Eren to pivot. Almost causing Eren to fall.

And Levi throws the both of them into motion — walking forward as Eren stumbles backward, facing him, until Eren’s spine hits the wallpaper. And it’s here that Levi pins him. His right hand braces the wall; his left forearm presses hard across Eren’s chest.

Eren has gotten taller. Eren has filled his frame completely. But, still, Levi is heavier. Levi is stronger. So it’s easy — _fucking easy_ — to fasten Eren where he stands. And all pressed-up together, Levi realizes how much higher Eren’s hip bones sit than his. It’s a mindless and fleeting thought.

“Stay here,” bites Levi, and he refuses to say ‘please,’ despite the echoing of the word in his head.

_Please—_

And in turn, Eren’s face is unreadable. His voice is trimmed when says simply:

“Why?”

“How can I give you what you want, if you won’t even fucking say it?”

 _Let me help you. Let me_ —

“Captain,” and Levi feels Eren’s chest rise with a breath. “You already know it: I just want to protect us. All of us—”

“I know you do.”

“—even if I can’t live to see it much longer.”

Before that damn basement opened, Levi had believed the one constant that could remain was Eren. All others were mortal and fragile and fleeting; but at least in his great heap of steam, reborn from the neck of a carcass, Eren would remain. But now, he is as temporary as the passing hours, and it hurts it hurts _it hurts—_

“Stop it,” says Levi. “Shut up. What do you want to do?”

When Eren doesn’t respond, Levi presses his forearm into him harder, pinching an uncomfortable groan from Eren’s throat.

“I want—”

Eren’s voice hitches. Finally, something breaks. His expression falls, yet his eyes cast upward. There’s a thin shine of tears threatening his lower lid.

_How long have you been waiting to cry?_

“—I want to kill them.”

And Eren’s like that boy again — fifteen and in a prison cell. Eyes shining. Levi’s gut had twisted in anticipation, then; a thrill had shot up his spine, because finally, finally, _fucking finally_ here’s that same drive and anger that Levi’s always had festering—

“Who?”

“All of them,” says Eren. And, in a whisper: “All of Marley. All of them outside Paradis. Even the fucking Eldians here.”

Something tightens in Levi’s sternum. It aches and burns like dread.

Levi tries to keep his voice steady. “All of them?” he asks. “Men, women, and children? Kids that looked like you?”

There’s a shaking, pained breath before Eren stumbles: “No, I—” His chest is heaving under Levi’s arm. Eren keeps trying:

“—If there was another way… But there isn’t. And—”

“You’re angry.”

“More than that,” whispers Eren. “More than that. Captain, I was so…”

Eren blinks. His eyelashes are wet and shining in the daylight. A hot streak of tears are all down his cheeks.

He tries again:

“I was so disappointed… I was so disappointed that outside the walls, it couldn’t just be us. Everything I ever wanted would never happen. It’s another fucking set of walls. That’s all I see, and—”

Eren squirms, but it’s obvious he’s not trying to break away. Levi shifts until Eren calms; until all of Eren’s warmth and weight is put totally onto Levi.

Onto Levi.

Onto Levi, finally. Finally. _Finally_.

“None of these plans are gonna work,” Levi says softly. Eren’s neck is wrapped around his. Eren’s arms are coiled tight around him. _And, that’s alright._ “You know it. I know it. Hanji knows it. Would you sleep better if we all stop pretending for your sake?”

“No, I’ve… I’ve given up on that.”

“I see.”

“I knew it, coming here, that Hanji’s ideas wouldn’t work.”

“But you wanted to try.”

“Just to prove myself wrong.” Eren swallows. He takes a deep breath. “I had hoped…”

A beat passes. Until:

“You’re being really patient,” Eren whispers. “Right now, at least.”

It’s off-setting enough of a comment, that it relaxes Levi by just a bit.

“I’m trying.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

There’s the sound of life echoing through the manor; the melodic rise and fall of Hanji’s voice; the muffle of conversation; the sound of movement. The Survey Corps returning home.

Levi continues, “It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“I think,” sniffs Eren. “Action comes more natural to the both of us. More than words.”

“Yeah.” Eren’s hair is soft against Levi’s cheekbone. “We’re similar in a few things.”

“A lot of things,” Eren’s voice sounds small. Reflective in its whisper; as if he’s only now realizing this himself. “More than…”

“I know. More than anyone else.”

Hanji and their science. Erwin and his short-term goals. But, only Eren’s eyes had flashes bright enough for Levi to feel that rising thrill of affinity. 

Levi grits his teeth. He wants to scream into this body he’s supporting. Wants to take all of Eren’s weight and drag him to the other side — whatever that other side may be.

He’s all he has, Eren. Every hope that has kept Levi’s heavy, aching feet moving has rested on this boy. Eren, with the blood running from his nose; Eren, with the crescent-pressed bruises along his hands; Eren, screaming glorious through the lungs of a beast; Eren, in front of gravestones, dropping his knees into muddy rainwater. Eren, Eren, Eren—

“Eren—”

“I was going to leave,” whispers Eren. He pulls his head back and presses the crown of his skull against the wall. But, he won’t look at Levi. His red, wet eyes stare at the ceiling above.

Levi blinks. He keeps his voice steady. “Today? Just now?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell Mikasa or Armin?”

Eren shakes his head. “I haven’t told them anything. I haven’t told anyone in the Survey Corps.”

“Have we lost your trust that much?”

“… A little bit, Captain.”

“Have I?”

Eren doesn’t respond.

Levi sighs. 

“I see.”

“But, it’s more than that.” Eren takes a shaking breath. “There are things only I can do. If anyone else follows… I can’t… Ah.” He wipes a hand against his eyes.

Through his clothing, Eren’s warm. Levi has only ever known him as such; made warm with a burden that weighed as much as the world. 

“So, you’ve figured out what you’re going to do,” Levi mutters. It shouldn’t surprise him, and maybe it doesn’t, but there’s this horrible sort of ache this realization leaves. “Let me guess… It’s the worst case scenario.”

Again, Eren says nothing, but the anxious flicker in his eyes betrays him. The speeding of his heart, thrashing against Levi’s clavicle, says that much.

So, that’s it, then. Levi has chased Eren to the edge of the cliff; one where Eren had only intended to jump from himself.

And he’ll lose him. Levi will lose him.

“Captain—”

“I’m not Mikasa,” says Levi. “I’m not Armin.”

“Captain, I know—”

“If you want to go out there and bleed, fine. Fuck knows you’ve been shouldering it all since the beginning. I don’t expect you to forget about that now. But…”

And, Levi pauses. There’s a sinking weight in his chest — heavier than Eren’s body. It’s suffocating. Horrific. He wants to drop to his knees with the feeling; drag Eren down with him and not let him go.

He’s so tired of losing people. And of them all, he can’t let it be Eren.

“But, not me,” says Levi. “Don’t suffer for my sake. Have you even thought about that? Over these… Fuck, how long has it been? Five years? Over these five fucking years, it’s been about me looking out for you. Let me do that… Let me _keep_ doing that.”

The bedroom door cracks. It’s sudden in its sound. A knob turns. If there had been a knock, it went unheard by them both.

“Levi…?”

And, it’s Hanji. The floorboards creak beneath their boots. They enter into the room, head awash in tangled strands that catch light from the window.

Hanji spots them immediately — stacked tight like books on a shelf. An echoing “ _Oh_ ,” trips out from Hanji’s mouth. Their head cocks rightward.

“I was just coming up to ask about you, Eren, but I suppose Levi’s handling it.”

A red stain crawls across Eren’s cheeks.

It’s… attractive, almost. A look Levi had never seen on him before.

“Yeah,” mutters Eren. He stands a bit more upright. His warm and heavy torso separating from Levi’s own.

“Everything alright?” asks Hanji, looking to Levi, now. “Am I intruding on something?”

Levi snorts. “Aren’t you always?”

“Well, I always try to be there for important events.”

“You didn’t miss anything.”

Hanji blinks behind their glasses. Their lips purse. “You sure? It looked like—”

“—Like I’m handling it.”

“Mm,” and Hanji frowns in thought. They rest their arms across their chest. “Well, I suppose,” Hanji says. “Alright. Though, ‘can’t say I’ve seen things handled like this before.”

“Out.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I think,” Eren suddenly interjects. “I’ll go, if I can be excused.”

Without thought or a beat, or without any sort of insight into the _hell_ Levi had just been exposed to, Hanji nods.

“Yes, sure,” they say, and a rise of panic grips Levi. His arm almost extends — where on Eren he’ll grab, he’s unsure; the first part of him he can touch — until Hanji chirps:

“ _Oh_!”

Stepping forward, Hanji pats Eren kindly on the shoulder.

“Supper will be ready soon and I’ll need you on clean-up crew for breakfast tomorrow. We’re overstaying our welcome, I think, so let’s try and pick up some slack here.”

And it could very well be a lie; could be just a string of words through Eren’s teeth — the last thing Levi will hear before Eren leaves to set the world on fire.

And yet, a calm settles in Levi’s soul — a relief when Eren says:

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

  
  


It takes three days, but on that third day, Eren rises. The sun has yet to glance above the horizon; the early morning air is cold. He’s in his coat when he enters the kitchen — his eyes still blurry with sleep.

“You’re up,” says Levi, and his dull tone betrays him. His thoughts rise and loop like the steam from the kettle below his hand.

Eren nods, but doesn’t speak. He rattles through the cabinets for two bone-yellow teacups. They sit in silence at the dining table, watching the indigo sky turn brighter through the window.

The sun won’t rise for another hour.

Halfway through his cup, Eren suddenly asks: “Can we go for a walk?”

They make it to the end of a pier that juts out into the ocean. Levi’s not sure if he trusts the thing — the dark wood looks worn; the planks squeal beneath his heels — but he’s seen people swim before, so _maybe he could do it_. Here and there along the railing, some men have gathered with their fishing poles. There are buckets at their ankles where thin, silver-shining fish make circles in the water. The zipping of their fishing lines break through the quiet of the morning; the sound almost similar to the hiss of ODM wires.

Eren’s walking in silence beside Levi, but there’s a sense of direction in his steps. Only at the very end of the pier does he rest his body forward, arms folded against the wooden railing. He sighs and looks out into the grey ocean.

“You didn’t tell Hanji,” he says, voice almost muffled by the wind.

“Why would I?”

It’s cold. Levi’s words disappear into white vapor when they hit air.

“Duty,” says Eren. “Or, loyalty to the Survey Corps.”

“Aren’t you part of the Survey Corps?”

Eren presses his lips together. Says:

“I feel un-apart from everything right now, Captain. Including myself.”

Levi’s head is aching. He’s facing opposite to Eren: his view is down the thick line of the pier that re-connects to the shore. Levi leans his back against the railing.

“Captain…”

“Hm?”

“What are you…” and Eren’s voice trails. His eyes are on the ever-spanning sea. “What are you loyal to?”

“Same thing you are,” Levi says. “Humanity.”

From his peripherals, he notices Eren’s mouth twitch. 

“What if,” starts Eren. “I’m not good for humanity? What if I marched a thousand titans across this ocean? What would you do, Captain?”

_The open theater of the courtroom; Eren’s wrists had been tethered. His tooth had clicked like the trilling of glass against marble._

_‘If you mean killing him,’ had said Levi then. ‘There would be no half-measures.’_

But now…

Levi tips his head upward; watches those damn, white seabirds glide in the wind.

“What are you wanting to hear, Eren? That I’d stop you?”

Eren’s dark lashes lower. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t have an answer for you,” says Levi. “It won’t matter, anyway. Whatever choice you’re considering, there are other options before playing god.”

Eren rests his head against his arms and sighs. “This whole mess we’re in… You want to talk about it.”

“I assume that’s why you brought me out here.”

“I guess that’s all there is to talk about,” comes Eren’s muffled reply. “It’s all I talk about and think about, anyway. So, yeah, you’re right.”

When Eren lifts his head, he looks tired.

“Forget it,” says Levi. “We’ll talk about something else, then.”

His eyes slide skyward again before his brows narrow. He notes solemnly:

“I hate those damn birds.”

“Seagulls?”

“Yeah.” Levi scrunches his nose. “Fuckers. Bet you can’t even eat them... No, why would you, anyway? Flying rats. And, they shit all over you.”

Eren makes a noise of amusement.

“Not even a bastard underground would eat these things. A dirty pigeon? Fine. Those dumbshit pigeons would get into the cave system and smack headfirst into a wall. Sure, eat the damn, dumb pigeon. But no one would eat a fucking seagull, I bet you.”

Eren’s face looks softer. “You’re talking a lot, Captain,” and Eren’s said that to him before. After Petra and Oulo and Gunther and Eld had died. When Eren was all that Levi had left.

In a way, he still is.

“Not for your amusement,” says Levi. “I’m just bored as fuck over here.”

Eren’s got his left cheek resting on his forearms, still leaned against the railing. He’s looking at Levi. “What about, if you were trapped somewhere? And, there was nothing else for food. Only seagulls.”

“Tch. I’d rather eat my own shit.”

“ _Captain_.” And Levi catches Eren’s quirked expression. It’s a nice thing to see. “But, if there’s no food in the first place… You wouldn’t even be able to…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying… There wouldn’t even be shit to eat.”

“Who told you that?”

“It’s basic biology, sir.”

“Hanji tell you that? Don’t listen to Hanji. Hanji forgets that only titans have one-way stomachs.”

“Okay, but _still_. To prefer to eat your own shit—”

“That’s disgusting, Eren.”

A shocked clap of laughter bolts out of Eren. He leans forward on his boots before rocking back. His torso lifts.

“Captain,” Eren’s voice is exasperated. “ _You_ said—”

“I’d eat the damn seagull,” snaps Levi. “Whatever it takes to survive. I’d eat the damn seagull.”

They’re standing close. When Eren moves, Levi can feel it; there’s warmth radiating from Eren’s neck. The shifting weight of the planks beneath his boots. He could lean over just slightly, and their shoulders would connect. Eren’s always been like this — always stood too close, or touched too easily. All too brash and aggressive and warm.

“ _Overly physical_ ,” Erwin had once told Levi. “ _Sound similar?_ ”

“I used to…” starts Eren, and a quiet has slipped back into his voice. The sky is growing lighter, but the grey clouds hang low.

“I used to imagine, sometimes… Back when things were…”

He shakes his head. Doesn’t know what to say.

“Simpler,” supplies Levi.

“Yeah,” Eren nods. “I used to imagine exploring the world with you, and with everyone. That, like, we didn’t have to worry about titans. We could just _go_. And we could have these endless night skies, or tea around a campfire during foggy mornings, somewhere on a mountain or wherever we would end up.”

Levi snorts. “You don’t even like tea.”

“I don’t,” says Eren. “But I like having it with you.”

The air is cold.

But, Levi’s face is burning damn warm.

“I kinda imagined,” Eren continues. He’s oblivious, looking out across the sea. “You know how much Hanji depended on Moblit? I kinda wanted that. I don’t remember if that’s second in command of a squad, or what the official term for it is. It’s not really about the title. But, I would see them, and I thought that could be us. That you could trust me, and we’d go places, like how we were meant to. With Mikasa and Armin and Connie, Sasha, Jean. I—”

Eren’s voice catches. He’s so lost in thought. “I wanted this. I really, really wanted this—”

“Eren.”

“Captain. That’s freedom to me.”

And Levi’s not looking down the pier any longer. He doesn’t look out into the sea. Or, to the sky. He’s turned. Standing close. Body facing toward Eren’s, and when he speaks, Levi’s stumbling around his words like the skipping in his chest:

“It’s still possible. Not exactly like that, but—” A sigh. “A lot of things will be different. But there’s some part of that we can have.”

But, there’s pain in Eren’s expression. The sight of it hurts.

“It’s not.” Eren counters in a whisper. “And even if it was, I won’t be there for it. But,” and he shakes his head. “But if I can give you guys that, I can die happy—”

And Levi snaps. 

“Shut up.” He kicks the tip of his boot against Eren’s. Shoves Eren against the shoulder until they’re staring eye to eye.

“You don’t think—” Levi bites. “—that’s exactly what I want too? That same fucking scenario? But, only with you there for it?”

“Captain—”

“Shut the fuck up and listen. All that fucking shit you just spouted… You think you’re the only one that’s imagined that?”

“I—”

“Eren, _shut up_ —”

“I’m dying in four years, Captain,” Eren blurts. “Even if all of us weren’t in danger, I’m dead in four years. I’m _dead_ in four years, anyway! Imagining your lives without me is all I have to keep going.”

The painful shock that grips Levi is like being pushed into water; the feeling so tight and so cold, the air seizes in his chest.

“And now you tell me that,” continues Eren. “That, you wanted that too… Captain, don’t you know it _hurts_ to hear that? And you’re getting after me, as if this is all my damn fault? You think I don’t want to be there? That if things were different—”

They were so close. They were all so close to happiness. Why here, on this pier, in this damned, fucking country, does Levi have to realize it now? It’s like seeing the sky, again, through the deteriorated rock of the underground’s ceiling. It’s there. It’s there. Almost reachable. Almost there.

“So, what then?” says Levi. It’s Shiganshina again, or that rainy field where he slaughtered a titan above two purged corpses. He’s overbrimming with panic and adrenaline. He doesn’t care if his voice is rising; doesn’t care if those damn, old fishermen on this damn, old pier can hear every word. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck Eren. Fuck all of this.

“Four years come, and what will you do? Just keel over and die?”

“I don’t know,” Eren’s voice is shaking. “I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re always fucking _dazed_ like a corpse in some batshit memory, and you don’t even _know—_ ”

“They get weaker. The man who gave my dad my titan, he was so weak that—”

“Maybe had to take a shit—”

“—Captain, _stop_! He could barely stand!”

“And, your old man? You watched him wither away, too, before he jammed you with a needle? So, that’s what’s gonna happen? You’ll get more grey hairs than me?”

Levi snorts.

“Good,” he continues. “Would be nice to not be the only old bastard here.”

But, it’s sudden. Something’s changed: the color drawn out from Eren’s face. His shoulders go rigid. His mouth goes slack.

The sight dissipates the poison in Levi’s throat.

And, “No,” says Eren, breathless. “My dad never seemed like that.”

Levi’s anger dies like a whisper. He heaves a sigh and steps back to pinch the bridge of his nose.. His headache is thrumming something painful.

There’s another zip of a fishing line. The air burns cold in Levi’s lungs, but his vision has stopped shaking out of anger, or fear, or whatever it was that made him snap.

Levi gathers himself back up again.

“So, I guess,” he tries, calmer. “He wasn’t near his thirteen years when you ate him.”

“But I was ten,” says Eren.

He’s looking dazed.

“I was ten,” Eren repeats, voice all hushed, like he’s speaking to himself. “I know I was. I remember. I had my birthday, and my mom made ten butter pastries in the shape of rabbits, because I turned ten. And the year before that, she made me nine.”

“I see the ability to count runs in your family.”

“But when he got to Shiganshina, my dad…”

Eren sucks in a breath. His eyes are wide, turned up to the brightening sky. “It took him more than three years to marry my mom and have me. That’s what I remember. He did so much before he married my mom. Even in his memories… That’s what I saw…”

“Shadis would know,” says Levi. And he can remember that long trip to the training fields; how much older Eren had looked that day. Can remember the eye-rolling sop that was Shadis’ testament; told from that old fucker’s lips like it was anything worth pity, while Eren hemhorraged through his nose every fucking morning.

When Eren says nothing, Levi adds:

“He’s got a history with your dad.” And, he can’t help himself: “Even if he wishes he had a history with your mother.”

“I’m just… I’m probably not remembering right.”

“Eren.”

They’re standing close again. Words low and quiet — the day is getting brighter. Still grey. Still cloudy. But, the streetlamps in the city have been extinguished; the edge of the ocean against the sky now viewable. The fishermen have dispersed with their buckets, one shoulder dipped lower than the other as they carry their dinner home.

“Never in all of these years,” says Levi. “Did you think to do some simple math?”

Eren’s face pinkens. His mouth drops.

“No, no, I must have. There’s no way…”

“Must have’ what? Must have correctly remembered your age, or that fucking curse that’s supposed to _off you_ in thirteen years?”

“He must have met my mom earlier. I’m not remembering that part right. _Captain_ —”

Eren’s voice breaks on the word. And, when his eyes meet Levi’s, something fucking _painful_ aches through Levi’s soul.

Because he sees it — in Eren’s wide and panicked eyes — the absolute terror of an uncertain hope.

It’s a crack in the underground’s stone, showing sky once again.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” and Levi’s speaking to them both. He can feel the pounding in his own chest; it almost feels like happiness.

Because, fuck it, it’s all too convenient — a deux ex machina dropping from Eren’s lips. The world doesn’t work on convenient miracles.

Levi nods toward the shore. Sets his boots in that direction. “Let’s go,” he says. “We’ll talk to Hanji and get the fuck out of this shithole. You’ll talk to Shadis, or go hold hands with Historia. Try and count, this time, when you’re in memory-land.”

“Captain, wait.”

Suddenly, Eren grabs him; despite the cold, his hand is warm around Levi’s wrist.

“I can’t go back to Paradis,” says Eren. “I won’t leave Marley.”

“Why?”

Eren’s face flinches. Just barely, but it’s there; a quiver of uncertainty.

“I’ve started something here,” he says. “I don’t…”

“Fine.”

“…What?”

“I said, fine. You have shit to do here? Fine. Hanji and the others can go back and talk to Shadis. Or cut off Historia’s hand and send it to us by mail, if that’s what your freak of an ability needs.” 

Levi frowns. Adds after a thought: “I’d rather explore this improbable avenue, than keep playing ‘Devil Ambassador’ for this hellhole.”

Eren’s grip tightens.

“And you’ll go back with them, Captain?”

“No,” says Levi. “I’m staying here with you.”

It’s brought up like this:

Eren can’t count. Or, he’s sustained so many goddamn blows to the head, his fucking memory is shot. Or — just like everything else they’ve believed — there’s another lie in the story. Or, the Attack Titan, or the Coordinate — or, maybe, only Grisha Jaeger — can survive a bullshit curse.

Or, maybe, some idiot dated Eren’s birth certificate too early, and the kid’s still going through puberty. Check his balls for hair.

“Well put, Levi,” says Hanji. They nod behind their folded hands. Otherwise, there’s a stunned silence. Armin’s staring open-mouthed at the oak table. Mikasa’s got these brimming, shining eyes.

She’s the first to break the silence: “So you’ll live. Eren—”

Levi stops her.

“We don’t know. Don’t get excited.”

Levi knows her — not well, but well enough. Enough to know, at least, the breaking point that confirmed loss would give her. They’ve never talked, really. Never sat down to chat, or passed words other than orders, or a time or two of insubordination.

But he’s got a soft spot for her, Mikasa. Family ties aside. Even if she felt opposite for him, after all these years.

The dining room with its deep green walls is private. The three doors entering the room are locked. This morning, the house staff shined the long table; the wax they use here is different. It isn’t grainy or pliable when you slide a thumb against it. If there’s anything Levi will bring home with him, it will be that wax, some coffee, and Eren.

Armin rakes a hand through his cropped hair. He’s got these dollish-looking eyes — wide and glassy — with a boyish curve to his brows. Five years, and still he doesn’t look much older. But, his tone is stronger now. He says into the silenced room:

“But, even if it is only Eren who isn’t affected by the curse, that solves so much.”

And it does. Those beasts in the walls could threaten the world for fifty years further without taking a step. And, what would that look like, really? Could safety be as simple as Eren waking in the morning, taking ten minutes to incite a single sound, and then heading back into his day? Could that horrific rush of solving diplomacy or playing government official finally be given time to think?

Could life be as normal as that?

“But then,” and it’s Eren’s voice cutting into Armin’s words, low and pointed when he speaks:

“Then we’re only prolonging the main issues. We’ll still be hated. We’ll still be cannibalizing our own people. Nothing will change.”

“I’m fine with that!” says Sasha. Her mouth perks; she’s almost laughing. She leans her sternum further into the table. “That’s fine! I don’t care if they hate me, and I’ll eat anything, as long as we’re not in trouble.”

Connie, beside her, groans.

“God, Sasha, I know it’s a joke, but come on…”

From across the table, Jean shakes his head. He’s got his arms crossed against his chest; expression furrowed. A long, ornate window behind his chair; the dull, afternoon sun barely lighting the blonde hair behind his ears.

“No, but, I see what Eren is saying,” he says. “As much as I hate to agree with him.”

A bang — Mikasa hits her palms against the table. “But why not even consider it?”

“Because it’s all a dumb hunch, right?” Jean counters. “So if we put all our eggs in this basket, and then we go to Shadis... or, I don’t know… can we send him a letter?”

“We’d have to figure that out,” Hanji sighs. “I have a feeling that us heading back to Paradis and asking him ourselves would be faster than establishing a mail carrying route.”

“Alright,” Jean frowns. “So, we go to Shadis with all these grand plans, but in the end, it only was thirteen years, or less.”

Jean snorts. Shakes his head. “So, all that work for nothing.”

“But, still,” and Armin’s voice is heavy. “Even if that’s the case with Dr. Jaeger, we’ve still never looked at this possibility before. And, Eren, you said you’ve never actually seen what happens after the thirteen years end?”

“No,” mutters Eren. “I haven’t.”

“Then… Alright, would any scientists in Marley know?”

“I shouldn’t be proud of this, but,” and Hanji spreads their open palms atop the table, “I’ve been told I know more about the biology of titans than any Marleyan does.”

“Likely they don’t want to get their hands dirty with them,” Levi deadpans. He sighs, rubs a hand against his eyes. “Use them for their purpose, follow the limited guidelines, and be done with them.”

“Yeah,” says Hanji. “My thoughts exactly.”

Armin tries again:

“So, then, even if it is on a haunch, wouldn’t at least _trying_ to confirm this, be better than what we’re doing now?”

Another silence drops. All gazes are on Eren, and he’s avertering them all — his half-lidded eyes staring at the texture of the table. Until, again, it’s Mikasa who presses:

“It is.”

Her voice is stern. Confident. “It is better. It’s stupid to even argue about this.”

“I agree with Mikasa,” dovetails Armin. Her blaze ignites his own. “It’s not only Shadis we can ask. There still have to be documents or archives that’ve been hidden away. Maybe if Eren re-reads his dad’s journals, he can remember something again?”

“I’ve re-read them and re-read them.” Eren shakes his head. “I can’t just… force memories to come. It’s naive to think that way. I don’t get to choose that.”

“Maybe your brain needs different stimuli,” offers Hanji. They lean across the table. “Maybe we could find something else of your father’s…?”

And, really, Levi would realize it’s without much thought or prompt. He hadn’t meant to abide by Eren’s vague sort of ideas. But, it comes naturally when he says:

“Then, that’d be in Marley.”

He’s got the side of his face resting in an open palm. From between the spaces of his fingers, he catches Eren’s head turn towards him.

“I’m sure Eren’s already touched everything that’s been left over in his old house.”

_Dishes and silver spoons, a wooden child’s toy; Levi had watched Eren drag his past out from the rubble. The rusted metal of a woman’s necklace._

_An unblessed grave of memento mori._

“Right,” Hanji sighs. Seated next to Levi, they pat him on the shoulder. “Good. That’s so right. Dr. Jaeger lived here for so long, there has to be something of his left over. Maybe that could spark some memories. I mean, we don’t know exactly how it all works. Maybe it’ll just be memories of here, but, well, this is just an option.”

“We’ll do it,” says Mikasa. “If Eren knows where his dad lived, I’ll go in there and bring back everything he owned.”

“I don’t remember where he lived,” mutters Eren. 

Against his hands Connie groans, “This is so weird.”

“We can have multiple tasks going,” suggests Armin. “Someone can go to Shadis. Others can go through archives. We can try and force memories with what may still be here in Marley. We’ll try and find your father’s house.”

There’s energy in the room, now. Warmth from their breath. A lift to most of their eyes.

“There’s something else,” says Levi. His voice stern enough to grab attention.

“Zeke,” he offers. And Levi tilts his face toward Eren. “How long’s he got?”

There’s trepidation in Eren’s tone. “One year, Captain.”

“Alright. Then, you like experiments, Hanji? The monkey can give you that.”

Hanji quirks a brow. They’re practically humming in their response: “ _Oh_?”

“Even if everything else ends up bust, have him rot for a year, and we’ll see what happens.”

“ _Captain_.” 

And there, at last, is Eren’s spark. He stands. Hands hitting against the table. His voice is taunt when he speaks, “We can’t do that. If Zeke dies—”

“Eren’s right, Captain,” says Armin. His hand touches Eren’s arm — a small encouragement to sit back down. “If we lose Zeke, we lose any chance to ever do the rumbling.”

“Unless we turn Historia into a titan,” snorts Connie. He leans over Sasha’s lap. Pokes two fingers beneath Armin’s ribs. “And have her eat Armin.”

Mikasa’s face goes cold. “Don’t joke about that.”

“We can have cautionary protections,” says Hanji. “We have a year. We should be able to figure something out by then. And, if Zeke is looking weaker, we’ll give up on the experiment and reanalyze our choices.”

“We shouldn’t even consider it,” says Eren. “You’re putting everything and Historia on the line—”

“Shouldn’t we ask Historia, then?” Jean interrupts. “She’s got a will of her own, you know. Mr. Freedom can’t control everyone. Maybe she’d like the idea. She likes to gamble right?”

“I don’t remember her gambling,” mutters Armin.

“Ah _,_ yeah. No, that was Ymir. Well, they were close enough, I’ll lump them together.”

“Doesn’t matter,” continues Mikasa. “Talk to her too, then. Where do we start? Here in Marley?”

“Everything at the same time,” says Levi. He rocks back in his chair. Arms folded over his chest. “There’s enough of us to do that. And, the less in Marley the better.”

His eyes slide to Hanji. “You agree?”

Hanji nods. “You’re right. Dr. Jaeger’s home would have been in the internment zone. If all of us try and search for it, we’d be tempting trouble.”

“However you want to split up the work in Paradis is up to you. But, I’ll stay here with Eren. Help him find some of his old man’s socks or something. Maybe grab that damn monkey while I’m at it.”

“Communication will be limited,” says Armin. His face looks unsteady; he’s glancing from Mikasa to Eren and back again. “Especially if you’re behind those gates…”

“If you can get in, though,” says Hanji. “I can trust you’ll get out. We can set up a meeting point. I’ll send someone to reconvene every two months to check on the progress.”

Hanji pauses. The light in their eye cools. In the quiet, they look to Eren, at this boy that — they must know — has lost faith in all of them.

“Eren,” says Hanji. “Are you okay with this plan?”

It takes a small sigh from Eren, just a beat of a moment, before he answers -

Yes.

  
  


The wind is running through Eren’s hair on the morning the others leave. Beside him, water tosses along the dock, pushed by air that blows eastward. The boat’s sails are open, ready to go home.

“This amount should suffice, if you don’t spend it all in one place,” Hanji winks. They hand a thick and beaten envelope to Levi; the weight of stacked paper currency within. “I’m hoping to give you more every two months. But, think you two can live off this?”

Levi tucks the package into his deep coat pocket. “I’ve lived with less.”

Hanji smiles, looking nothing less than tender. “I figured,” they say. “I’m not worried about you. Just, keep an eye on Eren. I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone else with that job. Neither could Erwin, for that matter.”

Levi can feel that prick of guilt immediately. If there’s a time to say it — _Eren’s on the brink of something terrible_ — this is it.

But, he doesn’t.

The scent of the sea will never be familiar. Even standing far from the water, along the edges of the upper part of the port, the mix of salt and smoke reaches them. In childhood, the idea of lakes and rivers had astounded Levi; the deepest pit of water he had known was a bucket Kenny held his head into after a long stretch of misbehavior.

And now, here was the ocean.

At the far end of the dock, looking small against the horizon, Eren stands close to Armin and Mikasa. Their bags rest upon the splintering planking. Armin’s head is turned away. Mikasa leans into Eren’s shoulder. But, there’s no return of the embrace from Eren. Stock-still and aloof, he is the same as he’s been since they touched down in Marley.

“Mikasa really put up a fight about leaving Eren here, didn’t she?” Hanji’s tone is almost nostalgic in its warmth. Their gaze has fallen to where Levi’s has gone, toward the far end where the trio stand.

“I would have been worried for her if she hadn’t.”

“Mhm,” Hanji agrees. “But, this is something, I think, that has brought her a bit of purpose again. Maybe for all of us. We’re not just blindly guessing anymore.”

“Hanji.”

“Yeah?”

“This whole idea is too good to be true. Don’t get caught up in it. Take it steady.”

“You saying that for me or yourself?”

Levi’s left eye flinches.

“Sorry,” Hanji chuckles. “Like with everything: it’s a crapshoot. We’re still in hot water…”

The ship’s horn blares. Armin has taken Mikasa’s hand; he leads her toward the ship.

“Well,” sighs Hanji. “Look at that.”

A hand falls to Levi’s shoulder. Hanji gives him a parting squeeze.

“Levi,” they say. “Go get drunk off of something.”

  
  


_”Tell me a secret,” had said Hanji. And those four years ago, they had looked younger; the stress not yet maring the lines below their eyes. “Not as your friend, but as your commander... If you’ll let me use the new title.”_

_“I can say no,” responded Levi. “But you’ll still ask.”_

_Hanji’s face didn’t soften. The light of the candle between the two of them had eaten most of its wick. Lately, all of Levi’s dreams have been nightmares of stones passing through brain tissue like bullets._

_“It was about Eren, wasn’t it? Not Armin or Erwin. It was about whatever Eren stands for to you. Armin was just the choice by proxy, wasn’t he?”_

_And, what was there to say? What confession had Hanji wanted? There was the truth: Levi’s own treasonous loyalty put into words._

_Hanji frowned. “Am I wrong?”_

_“No.”_

_Their iris, Levi noticed, looked copper in the dark, dim light. They watched as the wax pooled beneath the flame._

_“So what if one day,” and Hanji’s voice was just above a whisper. “What if, one day, we can’t trust Eren’s choices? And, it’s not just on a rooftop? It’s not just him trying to save his friend?”_

_“It was about more than just Armin for him. I knew that.”_

_But, Hanji shook their head._

_“You’re the only one who can handle him. I just need to know you’re thinking clearly. That’s all I’m asking.”_

_But even then, Levi knew:_

_“Hanji. Everyone’s drunk off of something.”_

_And Hanji smiled with a sad and thoughtful weight._

_“Maybe that explains it, then... You don’t treat anyone else like Eren, do you_?”

  
  


Granted, there’s no good way to infiltrate an internment zone, but Eren’s idea is one of the worst.

“Why would we need to pull that shit, just to get in?”

“It’s not just that,” argues Eren. He leans across the crooked cafe table. Close enough, Levi can smell the lavender soap in his hair. “If we’re there with their soldiers, we can see their tactics, or how they use titans…”

“Right. Yeah. I get that,” says Levi. “That’s good, but I’m not going out there to get my leg shot off, just to be thrown into a wayward house for Eldian soldiers with PTSD. There are better ways to do it.”

Eren frowns. “Then I’ll do it.”

“No.” Levi drains the remaining milk into his coffee until its color is as tan as their uniforms back home. “There’s two of us. We can get behind the gates with force. We don’t need to bother with sly methodology.”

Eren’s gone quiet. Levi glances up at him.

“Don’t tell me you actually _wanted_ to cut off your own leg?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

They’re nearby the west bank, not far from the port where Hanji had shouted a last goodbye. Eren hadn’t raised an arm in farewell. He stood beside Levi and stared out into the horizon until the ship to Paradis was a dark shadow on the horizon.

“Tonight, we’ll find the least-manned guard post,” says Levi. “Hold them at knifepoint and make them open the gates.”

“There’ll be a search for us.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “We’ll kill ‘em, then.” 

Eren’s face flinches. Levi bites back, “ _Now_ you have a problem with that?”

“Ah,” corrects Eren. “No, I don’t. No, I mean, I do, but—” He clicks his jaw. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it, Captain.”

“Mm.”

Eren fiddles with the bread on his plate, its smear of white butter shining briefly in the light.

There are a few ways to read Eren. He loses his appetite when he’s anxious, or when his head’s busy with over-churned thoughts. It’s been a while, now, since they sat down for a meal — there’s no way in hell Eren’s food hasn’t gone cold.

“Listen,” and Levi clears his throat. “The less mess we make getting in, the better. We’ll knock them out and be done with it. I’d imagine they prioritise people getting out, rather than back in.”

“Maybe,” mutters Eren. “What about the armbands? We’ll stand out if we don’t have them.”

Levi kicks the side of his boot against the leather satchel on the floor. “You can thank Hanji for already taking care of that. Fuck knows where these armbands came from.”

“What color are they, though? The different colors have meaning.”

“Whatever color outs you as an island devil.”

Eren smiles. It’s brief, but it’s there.

Eren’s breath falls on the tip of Levi’s ear — a soft heat that feels like a reprieve from the chill. Eren breathes slow and Eren breathes soft; it rises in a white vapor into the foggy night sky.

It should annoy Levi, Eren behind him so close. The alleyway in which they stand is cramped enough already; red brick buildings crammed so tight that neither can stretch their arms out completely. Unlit windows flank them; there is no steady beat of footfalls or chatter. The light of the streetlamps look fuzzy in the mist.

It’s midnight, or somewhere near it. They’ve spent their first day’s rations on half-eaten pastries and caffeine. Eren’s eyes are looking bleary — he likely slept poorly the night before, and if such is the case, Levi is no different than him.

Very low, very quiet, Eren comments: “Why would there be only one?”

“Because we’re lucky.”

One guard at one station. In the dim light, the end of the man’s cigarette glows red and mean. The smoke that pours from his mouth is only a bit thicker than the fog. He’s nothing incredible nor daunting; slightly pudgy, in a uniform that’s gone wrinkled. There’s either a sandy tone to his hair, or its color is pale enough to mimic the coppery light that drapes against it.

When he falls — and he will — he seems like the type who would have trouble getting up.

“You figure,” Levi mutters, “That the leverage for the gate is in his stupid, little guard house?”

Levi’s shoulder is aching; the bag Hanji had stuffed fat, fat, fat with clothes and medicine and supplies had begun to take its toll after carrying it along for so many hours. Levi adjusts the heavy satchel, groaning just a bit as he does so, before Eren murmurs something too quietly — maybe, a ‘ _Captain, here_ ’ — as he reaches for the bag’s strap and pulls it off from Levi.

“I figure,” says Eren. He shifts the single strap onto his own shoulder, making a face at the unexpected weight. “Do you want to rush him?”

Levi’s rotating his arm, working the crook out of his shoulder. In the tight space, his elbow brushes against Eren’s bottom rib.

“I bring him down, you get the gate open?”

“Yes, sir,” whispers Eren.

“And that fucking bag?”

“I can hit him over the head with it. Heavy enough.”

Levi snorts — the sound louder than what he had expected from himself. Nevertheless:

“Good boy.”

Eren blinks. The words clearly startle him, pressing a hot breath from his open mouth. The movement is sudden enough to ruffle the hair on the back of Levi’s neck.

It’s a… weird feeling.

The man is pacing. Three long steps east before turning to walk four steps west. He’s bored with his nicotine. His boots scrape against the stone as he walks. Every so often, he toes at a small stone or piece of litter before loafing in his next direction.

“Alright,” says Levi. He holds out the flap palm of his hand. Eren knows what he’s asking for. Digging through the satchel's front pocket, Eren pulls out a single knife, unsheathes it, and presses the handle between Levi’s fingers.

“When he turns on this next rotation,” says Levi. “I’ll take him. Then, you go.”

The cigarette smoke is waning; the strands of its grey clouds growing white and wispy. The man plucks it from between his lips and drops it onto cobblestone. He’s twisted the toe of his shoe into the ashes only once, twice, before Levi’s thick forearm has smacked hard against his Adam’s apple, wrapping over from behind him. The knife is held into his belly. And, the old fucker wheezes, the motion knocking air out from him quick. He panics, scrambling backward. Yet, despite the height discrepancy between them, Levi keeps him upright, the sharp edge of the blade rising to rest just beneath the guard’s stubbly jawline.

“Don’t scream,” says Levi. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

And, fast, Levi kicks his leg out and over, connecting to the guard’s shaking legs; doubling him over with a loud crack as the man’s forehead collides with the ground. It takes three bashes of his head against cobblestone — Levi’s fingers twisted deep in his hair as brings the fucker up and down (he’ll find a strand of it later on his coat; realize the man’s hair color was blonde just like Armin’s) — before the bastard is out cold; the blood from his nose seeping close to his dashed out cigarette. There are only a few splatters on Levi’s coat. 

Eren’s got the gate open. It had shaken on its hinges, rattling as it pulled apart.

“We’re gonna run,” says Levi. He returns the knife. But, Eren’s staring wide eyed at the man; brows knitted in concentration as he waits for a sign of… life?

“He’s not dead,” says Levi. And, it’s strange to look at this boy — to see the streak of worry in his features, when Eren’s as bloodthirsty as they come. “We need to go. Give me the bag.”

That shakes Eren out of it.

“You’ve carried it all day,” says Eren. He drapes a protective arm over it. “It’s okay. I can run with this.”

Levi nods; if Eren says it, Levi will believe it. He’s as capable as any, if not more.

They break into a dash, rushing far, far past that gate. Following one dim streetlight to the next; pivoting into alleyways only at the noise of voices in lit windows, before they break back into the open. And they run. They run. Cold air rushing into their warm nostrils. The wind pushes their hair aside, and almost, _almost_ , they’re going fast enough that Levi could imagine he’s on his ODM wires again. They have no idea where they’re running, no sense of direction and only a vague sense of purpose, but for a moment — as Levi glances over at Eren — he feels almost happy.

“Here,” and Levi grabs at Eren mid-run. He collides them into the thin space between two grey-stone buildings. It’s a one-way stretch of cobblestone, rounding out into a dead-end. Someone, maybe a resident in one of the buildings, had left a potted ivy against the blind alley wall. Its thin, green branches have slipped between stone cracks, making it halfway to the top before muting into something dry and brown.

An upper balcony of one of the buildings obscurs a rectangular portion of sky. Levi pulls Eren beneath it; their chests are rising and falling quickly. Eren doubles over, resting the palm of his hands against his kneecaps. He spits onto the ground.

“Fuck,” Eren pants. But, he’s smiling. He maneuvers the satchel off from his shoulder; he had run with it gripped to his chest. It thuds when it lands.

Lungs still heavy, Levi drops to his haunches. He digs through the folded clothing, through the tin cans of food, through the toiletries and spare items, until he pulls out two white armbands and their pins. He hands one to Eren.

And, “Left arm,” Eren gently corrects after watching Levi slip it over his right.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” says Levi. He straightens the bag’s contents (best as he can, anyway) before buckling it closed. “Just for tonight. We’ll find better accommodation tomorrow.”

Eren’s still breathing hard beside him. He sniffs through his nose.

“At least if it rains tonight,” says Eren, “We have something over our heads.”

“That’s the point.” Levi glances upward, to the underside of the balcony. There’s a sliver of murky night sky along its edges.

“Let’s rest while we can,” Levi continues. He digs into his jacket. Pulls out a pocket watch and squints at it in the dark. “One can stay up and keep watch. We’ll switch every two hours.”

Eren nods. An adjacent streetlamp from the main road casts light on his face. Even in the dim glow, his eyes still look bloodshot. Exhausted. The cold air has run his cheeks pink.

“You’ll be first, so hurry up and sleep,” says Levi. “Or try to. We don’t have any bedrolls. Sleeping with your back against the wall may be your best bet.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Eren breathes out a little sigh as he settles onto the street and tucks the satchel beneath his bent knees. Once the sound of his rustling has stopped, Eren says quietly:

“Captain...”

Levi’s seated against the contralateral wall.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking about something Armin told me,” says Eren. Fuck, his voice sounds tired.

“Uh-huh.”

“It was about you. Five years ago? Before Historia was queen. While I was with her and Rod Reiss… Armin told me later about what happened. With, you know, those prisoners you and Hanji had. Mm, and the people you had to kill.”

“Let’s talk about it later, Eren.”

“Sorry, you’re right.” Eren sighs, deep and heavy. “I was just thinking about it… with that guard and all.”

“Yeah.”

“No one is really… only good or only bad, huh?”

“Unfortunately.”

Eren makes a small noise. Another sigh skims his lips. Just before passing out, he concludes:

“Thank you for letting me sleep.”

The next two hours are fitfill. A cold has slipped into Levi’s bones. He wraps his arms tight around his legs and sighs into his knees. Every so often, Levi hears Eren startle awake; his body leaning leftward or rightward, before Eren wakes from lack of equilibrium and sets his spine straight again.

The fog has only gotten thicker. Before Eren had closed his eyes, Levi had figured to give him the entire night to rest. The kid always needed it. At least, Levi could swallow an entire kettle of coffee or tea to get through the day — he’s worked on exhaustion before. He knows he can survive it.

There’s the sound of a sneeze through one of the windows. Life exists above their heads. And, in another life, maybe, they would have been born here. Lived in these apartments. Grown up wearing these bands around their arms. A different life, and yet wholly the same: caged behind a wall.

Eren wakes again. He mutters a curse beneath his breath. Levi sighs. 

“Eren.”

“Mm?” His voice is thick with sleep.

Levi groans upon standing. He crosses the short space between them, before settling down beside Eren. Shoulder to shoulder.

An attempt to keep Eren upright.

And, god, this kid is warm. Levi feels the heat seep through his jacket. His left arm and shoulder and hip — all areas that touch against Eren’s body — are alight with the feeling. That horrific cold dissipates; Levi’s no longer shaking in his coat.

It’s immediate: Eren’s breath goes shallow and he’s asleep again. His weight has shifted onto Levi and that’s fine, really. A comfort, almost. And in all truth, it’s Eren — no matter how awkward and intimate, Levi’s lost his sense of boundaries when it comes to the boy. He’s pried him out from the mouths of monsters; knows the weight of Eren’s unconscious body; has used his own sleeve to sop up the blood from Eren’s nose.

_‘You don’t treat anyone else like Eren, do you?’_

“Fucking Hanji,” Levi mutters at the thought.

He can feel the pocket watch ticking in his open palm. One minute passes. Two. He’s staring at a particular rift between the cobblestone — mulling over the chances of an abandoned apartment — when he feels Eren shift. The heavy weight of Eren’s head presses against Levi’s temple; Eren’s brown hair brushes across Levi’s lips and nose.

And, fuck it, thinks Levi. That’s fine. That’s alright. It’s Eren. Only Eren. And, Eren breathes quietly enough. His breath smells sweet like that chocolate pastry he half managed to eat for supper. He’s warm. He’s alive. And, he’s here.

All good things; even if, so damn deranged by his own exhaustion, Levi’s gone utterly maudlin.

Another hour passes, and this time it’s gone quickly. Broken into spells of half-awake dozing and the foggy sight of his boots. The fourth time Levi startles awake, he realizes his left ear is warm: pressed against Eren’s head on his shoulder.

The next time he wakes, it’s dawn.

“Captain.”

Levi can finally place the scent — maybe because it had followed him into sleep. Deep and heady, it’s the scent of pine; deep and heady, it’s the musk of the earth. Almost bitter like black tea leaves; almost half-hidden by the soapy scent in Eren’s hair. But, it’s familiar — Levi had never realized just how well he knows what the sweat on Eren’s neck smells like. And, never had he been able to place it, until he recognized it in a dream.

Levi shifts awake. Gone is the dreamscape of forest trees that cast shadows on the mossy earth. In his eyesight now, there is stone. The half-dead ivy clinging to the back wall. The satchel, still, beneath Eren’s bent knees. There is a great amount of light — morning — and the passing noises of conversation along the main road.

Because, fuck, he had fallen asleep.

“Captain.”

There’s a shoulder bone digging into Levi’s head; brown hair in his peripherals that is not his own. He groans; straightens his aching neck as he pulls himself from Eren’s shoulder. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms and curses:

“Shit.”

There’s a hint of a soft smile on Eren’s features. His hair is haphazard, pushed around by a fitful sleep. But, his eyes are looking bright; it’s obvious he’s been awake for a while.

“What time is it?” asks Levi, his voice feeling thick.

“Seven.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” says Eren. “I, uh, wouldn’t have woken you up. But, um, I have to pee.”

Levi sighs. They’re lucky in all of this, having not been caught.

Eren rounds the corner, into the main street in search of a toilet. In the alleyway, forearm deep into the satchel, Levi’s curses to himself. Exhaustion be damned; if he and Eren had been found, and if Eren had been taken…

He doesn’t want to think about it. He pours water from the canteen on his toothbrush.

A short time later, Eren’s boots thump in the alleyway. He watches Levi scrub his tongue.

“You know, Captain,” he says. “You snore a bit when you sleep.”

Levi spits, white and foamy, into the ivy plant. Brush back on his teeth, he says, “‘ _Thut up_.”

Eren shakes his head. There’s an ease to his expression — something soft and kind that Levi hasn’t seen for a while.

“A few times last night,” says Eren. “I thought I’d wake up with my forehead on the ground. Thanks for keeping that from happening.” He anxiously licks his bottom lip. “I mean it.”

Briefly, Levi considers: with what thoughts had Eren woken up with? Pressed so close together, their breath intermixing; his superior dead asleep on his shoulder.

What a fucking oversight. Sleep prioritized over both of their goddamn safety.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” admits Levi. His stomach churns at the thought again. He shoves his toothbrush back into the satchel. “Idiotic mistake.”

“It was your turn to sleep, though,” says Eren. “Every two hours, right? You woke me up, didn’t you? And I probably fell back asleep. That was my bad. Completely my fault, Captain.”

“I didn’t wake you up.” Levi’s tone is bored in its sound. “I wanted you to sleep through the night. But looks like, instead, I took that opportunity.”

Eren blinks. He watches Levi hoist the satchel onto his right shoulder.

“Why?”

“Why’d I fall asleep?”

“No. I mean, why didn’t you want to wake me up?”

Levi snorts. _What sort of question is that?_

“You need it.”

He nods his head toward the mouth of the alley.

“Let’s go. We’re gonna look for a hideout, eat something, and then keep searching. I’m not sleeping on the fucking streets again. Had enough of that as a kid.”

In the daylight, at first, it’s not much different. Those dull, stone buildings. The shine of glass bottles and waxy produce in shop windows. The stiff and pleated clothing that they all seem to wear. But behind the gates, there are none of those smoking vehicles. Behind the gates, people talk quietly in groups among themselves; armbands on every left arm. They know their boundaries. They wilt in the presence of outsiders. They carry a furrowed worry to their faces; they jump at any unexpected sound.

By noon, it’s begun raining. Thick, heavy droplets that cling to the edges of their faces. Most in the streets have scattered, finding shelter beneath rooftops or under awnings. Levi leans against the brick wall of a pharmacy, the dewy, yellow lights of a display window coloring the edge of his cheek.

With the pitter-patter of the rain, Eren glances at the green awning above them. It’s a deeply colored hue; a mimic of his eyes. And something in this grey weather — in the damp hair pressed to Eren’s temples; in the flecks of color in his irises — makes Levi’s chest ache just a bit tight. Makes the curve of his fingertips spark and burn. He wants to—

It is a horrific realization.

And one he damn well refuses to acknowledge.

Levi adjusts the satchel on his shoulder with a grunt and watches a woman dash out from the rain, the hem of her long skirt gone dark with water.

“Should have packed those ugly hats,” says Levi. He glances back to Eren.

But the face that greets him is a familiar stranger: what he sees is Eren, awash in memories that are not his own. Crippled by a sorrow that spans multiple lifetimes. Eren is in anguish — eyes wide, mouth parted in agony. He stares, in a great silence, at nothing and at everything.

A boy haunted by his fate. Suffering in his isolation.

Levi looks back to the street, at the barren and wet greyscape. The rain sounds like static. Or, static sounds like rain. In Kiyomi’s grand mansion, Eren had tuned something called a radio — said he knew how to do it, said his father had seen a Marleyan general do it once. Every other turn of the dial would produce a noise that hissed and fizzed. And then, at the next turn, would come something as gentle as a piano.

It was a wonder — they all seemed to think that. Sasha pried off the back of the mechanism to look for “talented mice.” Armin wowed at the wires. Hanji spoke on the complexity of sound waves.

And, Eren had slunk away; so silent, he was barely noticed. Maybe, whatever played on that radio had been something his father heard before.

Levi’s lips part.

“You can tell me.”

He bumps a shoulder against Eren. It’s enough to chip some of the fog from Eren’s eyes.

“Eren,” says Levi. He repeats again: “Whatever fucked up thing you’re thinking of, you can tell me.”

Eren blinks. Breath stutters past his mouth; the spell suddenly broken. He shakes his head in response.

“I was thinking about this morning,” says Eren. “How I’ve never seen you sleep in a bed.”

“Often watch me sleep?”

Eren’s lips flinches; he almost smiles.

“Not at all, Captain. No. It’s just… hard to ignore the fact I’ve found you face-down on your desk more times than I can count.”

Levi snorts. There’s truth in that. And, just as many times, Levi had awoken with a wool blanket draped over his shoulders.

But—

“But, that’s not what you were thinking about.”

Eren frowns. “No, sir.”

Levi scrapes his shoe against the ground. The rain is coming down thick.

“What is it then?”

“I was thinking,” and Eren lets his voice trail. A moment passes. Another. Until Eren admits with those half-dead eyes:

“I was thinking about how many people live here. And, if there were titans, I was wondering where everyone would go. If, they would try to jump over the fence… And then I wondered, if the fence was electrocuted. I wondered if the guards outside would abandon their post, or try to shove everyone back in. Then, I wondered what was a memory, what was fate, and what was my own imagination. ”

Levi doesn’t respond. Steel-faced, he watches Eren.

“That’s…” Eren concludes. “That’s what I was thinking, Captain.”

Levi clicks his jaw.

“Well, that’s pretty fucked up, Eren.”

The words don’t hit right. Eren’s gaze turns away. And, maybe Levi’s a failure with these sorts of things, but he’ll stumble at it for Eren. He tries again:

“But, I don’t blame you, to wonder about that.”

Morbid, cruel, and dark; the world had fostered violence in them. Everyone understood; maybe he and Eren understood it best.

“Before expeditions, to myself, I would wager on how many recruits were coming back. Or, how often I was right on who would die their first day. I got really good at it. And you know, too, sometimes… Looking at those kid’s faces… I could figure what they’d scream like. I was right about that a lot too.”

Levi overhears Eren take a breath — something like a gasp, but any sense of shock had been absent in the noise. No, Eren knows all about this jaded reality.

“I hated it,” Levi admits. He shoves his cold hands into his pockets. Watches water drag between cobblestones. “I felt sick with it. I hated that I knew these things. And all the fucking time, I kept dragging those kids out to slaughter. They didn’t deserve it. None of them deserved my fucking hint of doubt, but more than that, they didn’t deserve my permission to let it happen, when I knew.”

“Captain…”

Levi shakes his head. “Whatever’s going on with you, I’m not admitting my own shit is the same. But there you are: my little anecdote in an attempt to understand you.”

The rain refuses to let up. They’re the only ones left staring into the street.

Into the cold Eren whispers, “Can I tell you something?”

“Mm.”

“I have memories. I see my dad’s memories. You know that. But, somehow, I’ve—”

His face flinches. Eren dips his eyes low.

“I don’t know how to say it. It sounds insane.”

“Insane seems pretty normal lately.”

“Yeah,” and it’s almost said with a laugh before Eren’s face goes cold. “But I… I keep seeing things. They feel like memories, but they’re not. They’re things that haven’t happened yet, and then they do.”

Eren sniffs. He brings his hands to his face to press his palms to his forehead. “They always do. And, the things I’m seeing, that I know will happen…”

“Eren.”

“Everyone will die, Captain. Everyone. And it’s because of me.”

Gone are the days of naive hope. Gone is Eren, bright-eyed and eager. The hope for humanity is now the end for them all.

Levi’s stomach curls.

“So what hasn’t happened yet?”

Eren’s face flinches. “The rumbling,” he says. “They’ll move across the sea—”

“ _You’ll_ move them across the sea.”

“I’ll—” and Eren’s voice catches. He sinks downward, downward, onto his bended knees. The threat of tears in his reddened eyes. “What else do I have?”

And his voice is so tight; held back in his throat to stop it from becoming a wail. “What else can I do? I don’t want to. I don’t want that to be the future, but what else is there? Everything I do, it leads to that. One future memory to another. God, Captain, I—”

Levi bends down beside him, the hem of his long coat settling against wet stone. He sets his left hand against the top of Eren’s head; cradles his fingers into the long, damp hair beneath.

And they stay like that in the quiet. The fizz of rain hitting rooftops and awnings and the bleak, grey stone of this walled-up city. It’s only when Eren’s shoulders begin shaking — when Levi knows that it’s all too much — that Levi shifts to settle his knees against the floor.

And, it’s cold. It’s wet. It’s dirty, but _fuck it_.

He pulls Eren into him, and Eren moves as easy as water; his face pooling into Levi’s chest. His arms wrapping around Levi’s waist. And he heaves, and he sobs. Hot, wet tears into Levi’s coat. Eren’s gone limp; everything he is, and all that he suffers through, pressing like a weight.

And Levi bows his neck to rest his face against the top of Eren’s head. He breathes in the scent of him and knows:

This is Eren. Humanity’s Eren. Mikasa and Armin’s Eren. Levi’s Eren. 

Levi cannot lose this. He will not lose this. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says. “Stop crying. We’ll figure it out.”

It’s still raining — maybe it will never stop. Eren pulls away from Levi as they both rise to their feet. A string of apologies fall from Eren’s breath as he smears the wet from his eyes.

And Levi stares out into the street while Eren collects himself. His mind is reeling. It fires off like those fishing lines that flew from the Marleyian pier. 

His voice is quiet when he speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

_Why couldn’t you tell me?_

Eren won’t look at him; his wet, dark eyelashes shine in the pharmacy’s light.

“I’d be followed after. Everyone would get hurt,” whispers Eren. “Every time I’ve relied on others, it hasn’t gone right. I think sometimes, Captain, about being in that forest with Annie. If I hadn’t listened, and if I had just turned into my titan, then maybe the other’s wouldn’t have—”

“You’re right.”

Eren’s shoulders jump. Levi turns to look at him. Says again:

“You’re right.”

“I…”

“And, you know you’re right, looking back. So why else? That can’t be the only reason.”

Eren’s gaze drops. He takes a breath.

“There’s a horrible part of me,” he admits. “That didn’t want to be stopped. Not by Armin or Mikasa, or by you, Captain—”

_(The open theater of the courtroom; Eren’s wrists had been tethered. His tooth had clicked like the trilling of glass against marble—)_

“And still, you’ve told me.” Levi’s watching Eren’s eyes; their color is so damn jarring. He hates the feeling they give him. “So, what now, Eren?”

_(‘—If you mean killing him,’ had said Levi, then. ‘There would be no half-measures.’)_

“It’s so selfish,” whispers Eren. “But when you told me you’d help carry this burden, it was the first time I felt relieved. After everything, it was the first time, Captain, that everything didn’t feel so heavy. Because it’s—”

His voice breaks.

“—It’s so heavy. It’s so damn heavy. And, I just wanted to hear you weren’t lying. That you meant it. I just—”

“I did,” says Levi.

Maybe Eren will set the world ablaze; and even then, Levi would hesitate for his sword.

“And, I still do. The burden is ours.”

“Captain—”

“So, then, for me… For us—” 

And that’s how it always should have been: ‘ _us_.’ Humanity’s hope. Humanity’s strongest. They’ve never belonged to only themselves. 

“—give it a day at a time. We’ll do it, or we’ll try. But, whatever hell you’re planning, let it rest for two months. That’s all I’m asking. Just one day at a time.”

And eyes looking into Levi’s own, Eren nods.

It takes some hours. They’re soaked to the bone and wracking up a chill. Levi’s got his teeth clattering, but they find it: a boarded up apartment. Long, wooden planks stretched across the windows. The paint on the front door chipping and peeling.

Abandoned.

The tired brass of the doorknob opens without force or a key; whomever had left the home to rot had done so without locking it. A stupid thing to overlook when the windows had been barred, but to err was to be human and Levi was appreciative of the mistake.

It’s small. A single room. A worn, burgundy carpet on hardwood flooring. A fireplace black with soot.

There’s a little kitchen area pressed along a single wall. There’s a bed and a dresser. A rickety table with two chairs… All shoved into the same, meager space, except for a plain door to a washroom with a sink, a mirror, and a bath. Nothing special, but that’s quite fine. Already, it feels more home than Kiyomi’s grand rooms had ever felt.

Eren paces the floors. He runs a hand across the table, lifting his fingers to stare at the grey dust that lingers. On the mantle of the fireplace, he reaches for a small picture frame left to lean against the wall. It’s a couple — a young man, and a young woman. They look warm; their smiles are kind. It’s a formal picture; a wedding, by the state of clothing. In her tailored dress, it’s likely their’s.

Levi peers around Eren’s shoulder, at the faces of these people. “Seems they’ve been gone a while.”

“They were likely patriots,” says Eren. “I don’t think they’re ever coming back.”

First things first: the little apartment needs cleaning. The mattress will need to be washed. A fire will need to be made. Levi crosses his arms as he looks at the mess. He can feel the tickle of dust in his nose.

“Hanji gave us money. I’m sure you noticed.”

Eren’s still staring at the portrait. He breaks away to return it to the mantle. “I did, yeah.”

“Here.” And Levi digs into his coat pocket, producing the worn envelope. He rubs a spot of dust from the tabletop and drops onto a chair. He counts out the money, making two equal piles.

“Your’s,” he says, pushing one to Eren.

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You save it or spend it.”

“No, I mean,” and Eren shakes his head. “We’re doing everything together anyway, right? Why not just keep it together?”

“You want to be in charge of it, then?”

“Huh?”

Levi stuffs everything back into the envelope. He holds it out to Eren. “The money.”

Eren stares.

“No,” he says. “Not really. I trust you with it, Captain. But when I need it, I’ll just ask…”

“Idiot. It’s both of our’s.” Levi pulls out a few paper bills. Pauses, thinking, then pulls out a few more to shove into his pocket. “We’re surviving on it together.”

On the fireplace, the portrait is pointed toward them.

“You’re making us sound like a couple,” grimaces Eren.

Levi snorts. He kicks his boot against Eren’s as he rises from the table. “I’m going to the market… wherever the fuck one may be.”

Levi pauses in the doorway before adding in a cold tone:

“Be a good, little spouse and get cleaning.”

Levi returns with five heavy, paper bags clutched to his chest. He kicks his foot against the door until Eren swings it open, grabbing for as many as he can hold. They set them onto the table. Wet from the rain, one bag splits open; two apples thud as they spill onto the floor.

“I found cooking pans and dishes,” says Eren. “There’s a stove here. I figured out how to work it.”

“Good. Make some tea.”

Steam rises from their cups as Levi organizes the new supplies. A great deal of the purchases are rags and cleaning solutions, which is of no surprise to Eren. One bag contains firewood and matches. Another holds bread and vegetables and butter. A carton of eggs — only two cracked on the journey home — are opened and put to use. Eren sets the scrambled yolks onto two slices of bread and gives one to Levi as he attempts to set the fireplace alight.

“We gotta clean this.” Levi nods toward the soot as he takes the dish. “But I’m so fucking cold, let’s save it for tomorrow.”

Finally, with heat in the house and food in their stomachs, a calm settles over the remaining hours. The most pressing tasks done, Levi peels off his wet boots and socks. His jacket follows next. He rakes his hands through his hair in front of the fire.

His undershirt still clings to him — wet and cold as it is. He undoes every button and leaves it on the edge of the bathtub to dry.

“Sir.”

There’s a timid knock against the washroom door. Eren opens it by a smidge and startles, only slightly, at Levi’s broad chest.

He holds up a bottle of brandy.

“You got this?”

“Housewarming gift,” says Levi. “For after the house is clean.”

Old bedsheets are exchanged for new, but not before Levi stares at the mattress with a furrow to his eyes.

“I got scabies as a kid,” he says. “I don’t want those damn things again.”

Eren pulls the white handkerchief from his face. Asks, “You too?”

Eren replaces the lightbulbs. Makes sure the water in the apartment will burn hot. He helps Levi clean and shine every utensil. They shake out the rug together.

Their dinner is simple: boiled potatoes and cabbage with salt. Chicken breast sprinkled with pepper. Nothing nice. Nothing fancy. But, in a place that is their own, it’s the first meal in Marley they finish completely. Eren rinses the dishes afterward; says it’s a ‘thank you’ for Levi’s cooking.

It’s been only eight hours, but a calm has settled in Levi that had been lacking before.

 _One day at a time._ Levi’s staring at the broad scope of Eren’s back. Thinks again: _one day at a time._

The rain stumbles outside their windows. The fire cracks on its logs. The yellow light of the lamps catch in Eren’s lashes like there’s sunlight on his eyes.

That couple that had lived here, Levi could bet they had been happy.

As the night wanes, they unpack the satchel and replace old items with their own. The prior couple had not owned much — some soap… a few worn and moth-eaten clothes. Eren folds and organizes the strangers’ things and sets them in the corner of the room. The woman had worn a perfume, one that smelled a bit like tuberose; it clings to the neck of her blouses. The man’s sweater smells of tobacco.

Neither comment on what to do with the things; they know, by instinct, that these items will never be worn or loved again.

Eren packs them all away, and in the newly empty spaces go their own trousers and shirts and socks. One drawer for Eren, one for Levi. Toothbrushes are left on the washroom sink. Their boots sit lined in front of the fire.

Levi winds the clock on the fireplace mantel — that technology, at least, hasn’t changed. It’s nearing midnight when he catches Eren yawning into his hands.

Levi turns their attention to the bed. Asks, “how do you want to do it?”

Eren blanches. “Excuse me?”

“Head out of the gutter. Want to switch every other night?”

Levi flinches. Another accidental double entendre. Eren’s too naive to overthink the remark.

Levi tries again: “You can sleep in the bed tonight. I’ll be on the floor. Then, we switch that set-up by the day.”

“Yeah,” says Eren. “That works. But, you should get the bed first, Captain.”

“Tch. So I can test it for scabies?”

“I doubt that couple had scabies.”

“You never know with people.” _Fuck, Eren’s looking tired_. “Fine, though. I’ll try and keep my skin from crawling.”

They extinguish the lights but keep the fireplace fed. Eren layers jackets and clothing and a spare blanket upon the rug. Two pillows are split between them.

A silence settles in the dim room.

It’s a silence that doesn’t reach Levi’s thoughts.

One hour passes.

Levi tosses again. Nearby, he can hear Eren sighing — just as awake as he is. Both acutely aware of one another; struggling separate but together in sleeplessness.

Levi can’t stop thinking — of Eren sobbing into his lap in the rain. Of the tumblings of fate and freedom. Of Eren’s eyes beneath the green awning; of the scent on Eren’s skin, _and how had he never noticed it before_? Five years he had known this boy — except for Hanji by just a year, that was longer than anyone he had ever known before losing them.

And, _god_ , what a painful thing to think about. To have and to lose. Maybe in four years, or likely sooner, this boy upon the floor will exist no longer.

The thought _hurts_.

Levi sighs. _Fuck it._ The bed creaks beneath his weight. That’s enough, he thinks, that’s enough. And, he crosses the short floorspace to press his heel into Eren’s turned back.

Of course he’s awake; Levi knows, now, what he sounds like in sleep.

Eren looks over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get in the bed.”

There’s a stretch of silence. Until:

“I’m okay on the floor, sir. You don’t need to switch with me—”

“I’m not saying that.” He connects his heel against Eren again, just a little bit harder. “Get in the bed. Wanna be polite? Take the spot next to the wall.”

Without light on Eren's face, Levi can only guess the stunned expression Eren must be holding.

But finally, _finally_ the coats and the clothing beneath Eren rustle. He mumbles something — an “ _Alright, sir. Thank you, sir_.” — before the bed dips with his weight. As promised, Eren moves to the far corner, pressing himself against the wall.

With a huff, Levi follows. He sets himself on his side to give as much space to Eren as he can. There’s a no-man’s land between them that will likely be lost by morning. From what Levi can remember, Eren had always slept on his back in that jail cell.

A minute passes; Levi had been counting the ticking of the apartment’s clock.

Awkwardly, Eren whispers, “You really don’t mind this?”

Levi rolls his eyes at the question.

“It’s just you, Eren,” he snaps. “Better than someone else.”

Eren almost goes quiet, _almost_. But, Levi hears a startled, little breath slip past the boy’s teeth. And he knows, immediately, the more mild words he should have used.

‘ _Better than Hanji, better than that ape, better than bed bugs…_ ’

But, it’s not worth the effort. Instead, in the odd, dark calm, Levi closes his eyes.

He wakes in the morning with Eren warm against him.

  
  


The week passes quickly, and then another passes. Levi would never call it cozy — existing within the rigidity of an internment zone should never be considered as such — but there’s an ebb and flow to their existence that he had never found elsewhere. Daylight hours are spent on long walks, where Levi waits for Eren to cull up a memory. Sometimes, Eren pauses in front of various buildings or on crowded streets. He puts his hands into his pockets and tilts his head downward; he’s lost in something, but never does he reemerge with an answer to the curse.

So as they wait, they exist in other things. Found in an estate sale, Levi lugs back a tired-looking radio. Its wooden shell is chipped in various places, but it’s been promised to work all the same. As the fireplace burns, they both lean into it; twisting dials, poking buttons. Levi’s shoulders jump at the shrill sound of static. He hears Eren chuckle — the breath from his mouth pushing the hair near Levi’s temple.

Eren turns the dial to play something nicer.

It feels warm and it feels good. The copper-toned color of this tiny home; how close Eren stands when he fiddles with something new. Levi fixes the tears in their coats and shirts and trousers with sloppy, ugly stitching; Eren cooks a bland, little dinner in the kitchen. Music plays.

Days pass by way of bread and butter lunches and a steaming kettle for the morning’s tea. Days pass by way of pulling splinters from each other’s hands, or shaving in the washroom mirror while the other scrubs their hair in the bath. Days pass by Levi waking. Sometimes, Eren is already open-eyed beside him; Levi knows when he is, because Eren shrinks back to his side when he wakes first. He lies on his back. He stares up into the ceiling; his eyes polluted by a depression that Levi knows he can never cure.

But, he tries.

“Eren. One day at a time.”

Sometimes, empty words are all Levi can give. Still, Eren takes them and asks for nothing more.

Near the end of the first month, Levi digs out the brandy they had both forgotten. Kept in a high cupboard, he moves it to the table. The bottom edge of the heavy glass settles with a ‘clunk.’

At the kitchen sink, Eren dries his hands with the same dish towel he had used for their blue-toned plates. He goes to peer over Levi’s shoulder, watching as Levi’s hands twist off the corking.

“A bit late on this,” says Levi. He can hear Eren’s breath near his ear. “But here we are.”

As he pours two glasses, Eren searches for music on the radio. He remains on something jumpy and staccato — a trilling of horns and drums that rise in tone before they fall.

“What kind of music do you like?” asks Eren.

Levi pulls a face. “Music. Just, music.”

“There are different kinds.”

“…Violin?”

Eren shakes his head but grants Levi a smile — it burns warmer in Levi’s chest than the searing of the brandy.

By midnight, Eren’s got the right side of his face pressed against the table. He’s four glasses in and smiles dumbly at the smallest of things. Numb in the brain, the weight of the world has been peeled from his shoulders; it’s a short-term reprieve that’s been long overdue.

He’s staring at Levi’s face.

“Captain, what’s the worst dream you’ve ever had?”

“A titan sucking me off.”

“What?!”

“I think I washed my dick ten times after that dream.”

“Oh my god. So is your dick that huge, or do you like ‘em tall?”

Levi snorts. He kicks Eren from beneath the table.

Eren hums, happy. Says:

“ _That_ , at least, I’ve never dreamed of. Like, was it a mindless titan or…?”

“You wanting me to say a titan like you?”

Eren pauses for a moment too long.

“No,” he says. “Well. I mean… Have you?”

Levi scoffs into his glass. “Don’t ask your superior that.”

“Mm, sorry.” Eren straightens. When he tilts his head, a small crack comes from his spine. He sighs before he takes another sip from his glass. Admits:

“But, you know, I wouldn’t find it weird. When you’re around someone for so long, maybe it’s normal? I’ve had some. And, when you’re younger, especially, you know… You fantasize about stupid stuff. Like—”

“Eren.”

Levi’s voice is sharp; it’s a bark of an order. Eren winces in reply, before smiling awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll stop. Or, just tell me what I can’t talk about.”

“Just keep your masturbation habits out of the conversation—”

“I roll it between my hands.”

He…

What—?

“… _What_?”

Eren frowns. He sets his glass against the table and holds his palms and fingers straight.

“Like you—” 

And he takes the glass between his two hands and rolls it back and forth.

Levi’s got his brows furrowed; knows his mouth is hanging open.

“Like a… fucking stick you’re setting on fire?”

Eren sighs and stops the motion.

Levi raises a brow. He’s got a mental image.

“Why the hell would you masturbate like that?”

“Okay, I don’t always. Just… sometimes. I mostly do it normal. I dunno. You never have?”

“No.”

“Then how…?”

“Are you seriously asking me how I masturbate?”

“Inappropriate?”

“Completely.”

“Sorry, Captain. I’ve just wondered sometimes.”

 _What the hell does that mean? What the_ **_hell_ ** _does that mean?_

There’s a sudden heat that has crawled up Levi’s throat. He doesn’t get it or understand it — why his knee is bouncing beneath the table; why his head feels like it’s popping like the bubbles in champagne.

He nurses his drink and scowls; watches Eren’s index finger as it mindlessly runs along the lip of his glass.

And still, and still, and _goddamn still,_ Levi can’t stop:

“I just fist it like normal.”

Eren blinks at the response. He nods wisely. Says, like it’s the easiest advice to give, “try rolling it next time.”

“I’m with you every second of the day. When will I get time to ‘try it?’”

“I’m not stopping you.”

It frightens him when Eren’s expression doesn’t break. There’s no snide grin that follows. There’s no hint of the comment being meant to tease.

“I shouldn’t have opened the brandy,” says Levi. He’s desperate to right the situation. “Who knew you’d be a degenerate when you drank?”

“Mm,” groans Eren, and that explains absolutely _nothing._ He leans his torso over the tabletop, and Levi hates it, hates it, hates it, that his eyes slide immediately down the curve of Eren’s spine; hates, all the more, the realization that he’s done this before.

 _Fuck_.

“I’ve never even had sex,” sighs Eren.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“Not that…” And Eren frowns to himself. “I cared all that much. I used to not get it... People being in love, or having sex.”

“Yeah, it’s—” starts Levi.

But then, a thought hits him. His brows narrow. Levi reels back.

“ _Huh_. I would have figured with Mikasa…”

“Mikasa?”

“Armin?”

Eren stares at him in horror.

And, sure, it’s just to tease — just to wedge himself further beneath Eren’s skin — but it feels like an accomplishment when Eren’s face fucking _twists_ when Levi offers:

“Jean?”

“Stop! No! None of them. I don’t even want that from any of them.”

Levi snorts. “What was that bullshit you said earlier? ‘When you’re around someone for so long, it’s normal to fantasize about them?’”

“Okay, that was different. And no, I didn’t say that exactly.”

“So who? Erwin—?”

“No.”

“Hanji?”

“Ah. No.”

“I’m running out of people. Sasha? Historia?”

“Captain.”

“Ah. ‘ _Captain_.’”

Levi smirks to himself, pleased to have won such a stupid, petty word game.

But Eren’s expression has gone steady. He gives no retort. He’s staring at Levi with these clear-as-hell green eyes, and Levi can feel his heart thudding, thudding, thudding in his chest like the ticking clock for a bundle of dynamite.

He knows, very suddenly, where all of this is leading.

Elbow bent against the tabletop, Levi rubs a hand over his face. Can only manage in a sigh: “Fucking hell, Eren…”

A painful silence passes. Eyes still pressed against his hand, Levi can hear Eren refill their glasses. He doesn’t stop him. Instead, he takes the drink when given.

“Um,” says Eren. He stares at the almost-empty bottle and asks in a poor attempt of nonchalance, “When’s the last time for you? That you did something with someone?”

“What are you wanting me to say?”

Eren shrugs.

Levi sighs again.

“Well, definitely not within this last month.”

A breath of a laugh juts from Eren’s mouth. It’s an anxious sound.

“I figured, back home for you,” Eren says, “It would have been a lot.”

“Yeah,” Levi deadpans. “Every day.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

“Eren.” Levi’s tired of the nerves coiling tight around his lungs. “Get to the point.”

The blunt words startle Eren. His shoulders jump, his face flinches. He won’t look at Levi, but there’s a reddening hue from his ears to his nose.

“Maybe it’s just…” and Eren’s voice is timid. “It would just feel nice to be distracted from everything, for once.”

_Ah._

So that’s it.

A distraction.

It tastes like disappointment. That heady spark fizzles. Levi’s leg stops jumping. He’s staring into his own glass; can see the reflection of the ceiling in the dark liquor. There’s a space in the far corner that holds a cobweb. How had he been so distracted as to miss it all this time?

“Sure,” tries Levi. “Sex can be like that.”

“Yeah,” mutters Eren. “Maybe.”

What had he hoped for? What had he wanted? To lay Eren warm and well-kissed on the bed they share each night? To run his hands from the cliff of Eren’s collarbone to the warm spot between his legs — whispering words like ‘sweetheart’ as his palms ghosted past the bumps of Eren’s ribcage?

Stupid.

Levi recaps the bottle.

“I’m taking a bath,” says Levi. Even with the washroom door shut behind him, he can still feel Eren’s eyes against his back. The hot water helps little, and Levi’s scrubbing the soap against his skin until it reddens in return.

By the time he nudges the washroom door open, Eren’s slumped over the table. His head lies cradled in his arms; utterly, completely, and totally passed out.

“Idiot,” sighs Levi, but his voice is tinged with warmth. He ruffles the hair on Eren’s head. “Hey.”

Eren whines in return. He doesn’t move.

“Let’s go to sleep, Eren.”

No response.

“You wanna sleep on the damn table?”

“Mmph...”

“How eloquent.”

Some years have passed, but Eren only weighs a bit more. And his limbs, although longer, aren’t much trouble to set right. When Levi lifts him by the torso, Eren’s legs bend around Levi all easy, crossing at the knees around the small of Levi’s back. And, as if by instinct, Eren’s arms move without prompting. He fastens himself tightly around Levi’s shoulders and sighs.

“Like a goddamn child,” mutters Levi. He hoists Eren a bit higher, fixing his weight to a more comfortable position before Levi steadies Eren onto one arm as he begins to switch off the lights.

“You like classical music,” says Eren suddenly. His voice is a mumble as Levi snaps the radio off. “Really gentle classical music, with just a piano or violin. That’s the kind you like.”

Levi wonders if Eren catches the heavy thump in Levi’s chest. He clears his throat. 

“Uh-huh. So what’s your’s?”

“I like it faster,” says Eren against his shoulder. He sighs. “Thanks for asking, Captain.”

Levi could just drop Eren onto the bed and kick him to his side, and maybe five years ago he would have. But, that was then, and ‘ _then_ ’ was a different time — before Levi had imagined rubbing the grief from Eren’s soul like a smudge upon the face.

He settles Eren down softly and Eren hums at the feel of the bed. Eren’s still in his day clothes but, _fine_ ; what’s a drunken night’s sleep without the standard uniform, or sour breath to punish you in the morning? Levi wedges himself into his spot. Grumbles at Eren almost taking up the entirety.

When Levi pulls the blanket over them both, he feels Eren shift. A warm arm drapes over his waist; a body presses against his back. He can feel Eren’s lashes against the back of his neck.

Levi waits for words, or for a worthy movement to shove Eren off of him. But, neither ever come.

Somehow — despite the banging in his chest — he falls asleep.

It’s a horrific hangover. Eren gags into the toilet the entire next morning.

“If you vomit anywhere else, you’re cleaning it up,” says Levi. He jabs Eren with the end of a broom.

“Yeah,” rasps Eren. His voice echoes into the white curve of the bowl. “I know, sir.”

Levi cleans up that cobweb. He prepares tea and eggs for breakfast. Reads — but does not retain — the newspaper propped between his hands. He sits with one leg crossed over a knee. His mind keeps wandering to the night before.

“Eat something,” he says to Eren when he finally slinks out from the washroom.

“I’ll throw it up.”

Levi shrugs. He’s got the prick of a headache himself, but nothing food in his stomach and caffeine can’t fix. Still, he won’t nag Eren over it.

Eren plops onto a chair. His face is looking taunt and pale. He scrapes a nail between the grooves of the wood. Finally, with his head bowed he says:

“Sorry about this morning…”

“Hm?” Levi doesn’t bother looking over his paper.

“How I was… Um. Clinging to you. Uh…”

“Surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Levi sets the newspaper down with a ‘ _Tch_.’ “It’s a small bed and you never keep to your side.”

Eren drags his upper teeth against his lip.

“Did you—” He clears his throat. “I’m really sorry, Captain, that…”

“That I woke up to your dick pressed against my ass? As if last night’s come-ons weren’t enough.”

“ _God_ ,” Eren groans. He buries his face into his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll sleep on the floor from now on. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I was like that.”

Levi sighs. He taps his fingers against the table.

“The worst thing you did last night,” he says. “Was admit you roll your dick between your hands.”

Eren’s expression eases. His voice is a low whisper.

“That was the worst thing?”

“Yeah,” says Levi. “That was the worst thing.”

  
  


He is brittle between the few good moments. He is water that slips through Levi’s clenched hands.

And, so, that is life; no gentleness or patience or empty bottles of brandy can sop up a soul that’s splintering. It is better now, like this, than to not have him at all.

So Levi lets him take his time. And in moments Eren is no longer Eren — when he is the sick conduit of trauma — he pulls Eren’s wrists out of crowded markets, or waits at street corners while Eren gags from the gore of memories.

Levi would never call himself gentle or affectionate. He knows better how to hurt than how to coddle.

But for Eren—

“Tilt your head back.”

He will for Eren.

The bathtub water is almost lukewarm. Levi spills it across Eren’s hair. He washes out oil. He scrubs at his roots. He presses his fingers into Eren’s ears before he tilts his head half-beneath the water to loosen the shampoo.

Lately, Eren’s been going out alone. Sometimes, he’s gone for hours. Sometimes, five minutes… ten. Sometimes, he arrives home unchanged. Sometimes, Levi knows by a glance at his face in the doorway, that Eren’s spent his hours in anguish.

And it’s like that today.

The kitchen chair squeals beneath Levi’s weight. He’s seated at the head of the bath with Eren’s hair between his fingers. It’s a dumb job to be doing when there are other things to be done. Maybe when Eren’s better, he’ll tease him over this moment. One day, maybe.

“Can’t fucking believe,” Levi chides. “It took you three days to take a damn bath, and it had to be me to drag you in here.”

“I’m sorry about that, Captai—”

“Shut up.”

A thick line of suds still cover the bathwater — Levi’s one attempt to give Eren privacy. While the water had been running, he had thrown five heavy spoonfuls of liquid soap beneath the faucet. Had said as he shoved Eren into the room: “ _Clothes off. Get in the bath. If I come back in here and you’re not in, I’ll toss you into the rain.”_

“Captain.”

“Mm?”

Levi’s got Eren bent forward at the waist. His pretty, tan neck is curved as Levi runs a bar of soap down his vertebrae.

“No one’s ever done this for me before,” says Eren.

“Lucky you.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Maybe you don’t,” says Levi. “But I’ll still wash your hair.”

Eren’s shoulders tremble suddenly. Levi can feel him shaking beneath his hands.

And if this is how Eren sees himself, as what is to be epidemic, unwashed, and detested, then fine: let it be so. Any damn dream or ghost can haunt him. Any god of death can land on this shore. Levi will tear Eren from the monster’s nape; will soak him in this bathwater; will recount the times Eren has made this world feel palpable, despite the blood drying between the lines of Levi’s palms.

He is Eren, only Eren. And, sometimes, Levi wonders if he could let the world burn in its own fire, if it meant preserving him.

“Head back one more time.”

And when he sees Eren’s face again, it’s red and wet with tears. He’s been crying.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Eren chokes. “I’m just…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“ _God_ —” and Eren’s voice breaks at the word. “Why are you doing this?”

And, fuck, his eyes are pretty. His hair beneath the water has extended like a halo. Eren sniffs and sits upright. He turns, bending his knees close to his chest before he presses against the lip of the bath. Body pointed at him now, he stares at Levi. Thick tears drip from the curve of his cheeks.

“Captain, why are you…?”

“Because you haven’t bathed in three damn days, and I’m tired of seeing the shine of grease in your hair.”

“No,” Eren begs. “Why? Please.”

“Because I want to, Eren.”

Eren’s body bends. 

His wet face, his sopping hair, collides against Levi’s inner thigh. His hands had gripped Levi’s arms as he crumbled downward. Desperately, he hangs on. Brokenly, he asks again:

“Captain, why?”

“I just told you.”

“I don’t want your kindness.”

“Then I’ll stop.”

The grip of Eren’s hands flicker before they press down all the harder.

“I don’t want that either,” he says.

“Don’t act spoiled.”

Eren laughs; it sounds painful through his tears. The heat coming from his mouth feels damp against Levi’s right thigh.

And it’s almost the same, this situation. Two months ago, Eren had hit his knees against stone; had crashed like a wave onto Levi’s lap. Had spoken of the nightmares that convinced him he was a devil.

“Eren—” and what a weird subject to touch at a moment like this. “It’s been two months. We never found an answer.”

Levi sighs. He realizes only now that his right hand has been tangled in Eren’s hair. He doesn’t remove it. “What are you thinking? What do you want to do?”

Eren lifts his head. He rests his chin on Levi’s leg, his face still looking ruined.

“If you think there’s nothing else,” says Eren. “I’ll be the devil.”

Levi looks to the ceiling where the last of the steam bobs and curls.

“I don’t—” he begins. His voice catches. His face tilts back to Eren. He tries again. “In my own selfish way, I don’t want that. Not for you, not for everyone else, not for me. And…”

Levi takes a heavy breath. “I struggle to think that the things you said you could do, are coming from your own ideas.”

“They aren’t,” says Eren. “But I’m understanding, finally, why Reiner kicked down that wall. It wasn’t out of spite. It was for home.”

And, god, how much like Eren. To fester in malice, but to only carry out violence when tethered to the word ‘protect.’

Levi could adore an idiot like that.

“Look how far you’ve come,” he mutters. “But then again,” and Levi moves his hand through damp tangles. He combs the wet strands from Eren’s temples. “You still haven’t changed that much.”

“It’s hard to believe that.”

Levi snorts. “You’re still Eren Jaeger.”

Eren’s grip on him tightens. A moment passes; the bath water must be cold. Nevertheless, Eren does not move. Instead, with Levi’s hand in his hair, Eren asks in a quiet voice:

“Will you say that again?”

And Levi understands.

“You’re still Eren. Only Eren.”

And Eren’s head drops, forehead falling against Levi’s thigh. He curls his arms around Levi’s waist. And Levi lets him in this late, odd evening. It’s been almost two months, and here they are. Without any memories of use, without any answers to the curse. With Eren naked and damp against Levi, begging for proof of his humanity.

This is what two months have given them.

And, that’s alright. There is so little Levi can give, but he can give Eren that.

Levi leans forward. He folds his arms around Eren — the long sleeves of his shirt growing dark and wet from the embrace. Face against Eren’s hair, he adds, “No matter how fucking insane some of the shit you say is.”

“Still—”

“Still you’re Eren.”

Through skin and bone and muscle, Levi can feel Eren’s heart thumping fast. He can feel the rise and fall of Eren’s ribcage. He is alive. He is here. Maybe, someday, he can exist without a date of expiration; no longer like milk waiting to spoil.

There’s still a chance, slim as it is, and it’s enough.

“Captain,” and it’s said in a muffle against Levi’s leg. “When we meet up with Hanji next week—”

He can feel Eren’s hold tighten. Can feel his heart race faster.

“—There’s something I’ll tell you both about Yelena. And, Zeke. And, everything—”

Tighter, tighter his grip goes. Faster and faster his heart speeds.

“—I’ll tell you everything.”

And Eren’s face lifts. Guilt has pulled at every feature. Their noses are too close. Levi can feel the heat of Eren’s mouth.

And where can Levi begin? He’s bogged down by the words in their multitudes. His tongue feels thick.

_Let me pull you from the grave._

_Are you tired? Do you hurt?_

_Why_ , Levi wants to ask, _do you choose to carry the heaviest of burdens?_

“Eren—”

The water shifts within the bath; it laps against the edges of the porcelain as Eren moves. His arms untangle from Levi’s waist; his hands grip at Levi’s hairline, against the back of his skull, where he finds his stability.

He bears his weight against Levi. He brings his face closer.

And Eren is warm. Eren is soft. Eren’s mouth tastes like this evening’s black tea and Levi feels _alive_. His hands tangle further into Eren’s hair, pulling Eren closer — as close as lips and teeth will let them, until Eren breaks away.

“Do you hate me?” asks Eren, as if the question is too heavy to bear. “Are you angry? I was going to do so much to hurt—”

“Look at me.” Levi is coming undone. “I know. I adore you. Look at me. I know. Now, listen, I adore you. Don’t ask me that again.”

It’s a fever of words, and Eren crashes into him; desperate hands dragging from the crown of Levi’s head to his neck. Levi can taste the spill of Eren’s tears against his lips. He stands. He holds onto Eren, bringing him up with him. Encouraging him to step over the lip of the tub.

Eren follows, and Levi eases them onto the black and white tiling of the washroom. He lays Eren on his back. He reaches for a towel and while straddling Eren’s hips, Levi rubs Eren’s hair dry.

“Captain, why?”

“Why what?”

“All of this… Everything.”

“I already told you.”

He lifts Eren’s arms; he sops up the water with the towel. Throws it across Eren’s chest and his stomach.

“I can do the rest,” Eren flushes.

“It’s not like I’m unaware of the hard dick beneath my ass.”

“God, don’t say that.”

He likes when Eren’s face is red.

But Levi lets him, anyway; he leaves to give Eren privacy. Stepping back into the main room, Levi begins to feed the fire. He can’t let himself think, because he can sense the looming spiral.

So, instead, Levi focusses elsewhere. His wet clothes are still stuck to his skin. He stands to peel off his buttoned shirt. He’s got the buckle of the belt between his hands when Eren steps out from the washroom, a towel held around his hips.

They catch eyes. Eren’s face looks startled.

“I can…” Eren stumbles over his words. The adrenaline, likely, tying his tongue. “I can do that for you.”

And, he’s on his knees, the towel cast onto the floor. Levi’s heart is in his throat — on battlefields, in times of death, it beats as loud and as hard as then. Eren’s green eyes are looking up at him. Eren’s pretty, green eyes.

“I’m not gonna know what I’m doing,” says Eren.

Levi holds his tongue. _Bite my dick off, and I’d probably still like it from you._

“I’m not expecting anything. You don’t even have to do this if you don’t want.”

But, he knows Eren. He’ll fail a thousand times but still rise for the next call.

Such is his burden; such is his strength.

Levi’s belt clatters as it’s pulled undone.

“It’s okay for me to…?” mutters Eren

“Why would I complain against it?” Levi’s right hand dips behind Eren’s left ear. He can feel Eren’s hands shaking as he undoes Levi’s trousers.

And—

“ _God_ ,” breathes Eren.

And—

 _God_ , Levi thinks. What a fucking sight: his own length resting against Eren’s cheek as the Eren leans forward to breathe warm against the divot between Levi’s thigh and pelvis. He pulls Levi’s trousers and underwear down together, pooling the fabric at Levi’s ankles for him to step out of.

Eren’s face is red. His hand cups the base of Levi’s shaft as he stares, overwhelmed.

“Just don’t roll it,” says Levi.

Eren’s eyelashes flutter before he gives an offended smile.

“Whatever,” he chides. “Maybe you’ll thank me for it. Probably end up liking it.”

Levi hums. He brushes the hair from Eren’s face. “Maybe.”

“Captain.”

“Hm?”

Eren’s hand starts to move, dragging from the soft curls of Levi’s hair to the end of his foreskin and back again.

“This is usually how I do it,” says Eren. His lips stay parted. The hot air from his mouth skirts the pink head of Levi’s cock.

Levi swallows down a groan.

“But,” says Eren, and his breath is hotter. Closer. “If I suck you off, you’d probably like that more.”

And Eren’s dark lashes seem heavy as he looks upward; his mouth is open in a smile. He’s resting the edge of Levi’s cock on his soft bottom lip.

“Right, Captain?”

And fuck — _fuck!_ — his mouth is warm. When Eren pulls Levi in, his mouth is _so. fucking. warm._

“Shit—” Levi hisses. His body almost jerks as Eren runs the flat of his tongue from underside to tip. The feeling thrums all the way up Levi’s spine until it unfurls at the base of his brain.

This is Eren on his knees. This is Eren with Levi’s cock in his mouth. And in this long, damn night, he is not Eldia’s Eren, or humanity’s Eren; he can be Levi’s. Just Levi’s.

“Pretty thing,” Levi whispers. He watches Eren’s lips slide against his cock. “You’re doing so good.”

Eren hums. He leans all the more forward, daring more into his mouth. And—

“Just like that,” Levi groans as Eren hits the base. Eren’s eyes are watering at the corners. _Fuck, he’s beautiful_. “That’s so good. Just like that.”

He doesn’t dare call it natural talent, but it’s close. It’s Eren’s lack of timid nature, maybe. Or, a stubborn will to do well. He’s messy — slick with spit that dribbles from his mouth and trails on Levi’s skin. But, fuck, what a beautiful, beautiful mess of a man.

When Eren pulls back to breathe, Levi drops down to kiss him; open mouthed, tongues desperate against one another.

“You’re better than you think,” says Levi. Eren’s lips feel hot and raw from the friction. He wipes the spit from Eren’s face with his thumb.

Eren goes pink at the compliment. Still asks, “You want me to stop?”

“You want to continue? More than this, I mean.”

Eren gives an anxious, little exhale. His eyes flit to the bed.

“Please, sir,” he says. “Yes.”

“Eren, if we’re fucking, I won’t kick your ass if you call me Levi.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Levi shakes his head, an amused smile breaking through. “Close enough.”

“Levi…”

“Hm?”

Eren clears his throat. “Just trying it out. It feels weird. Not bad. Just, different.”

“Maybe with more practice—” _and a lifetime more of these moments_ , Levi hopes “—you’ll get used to it.”

Eren sighs as his spine hits the short side of the bed. His legs hang off the sides. He drapes the back of his hand over his eyes. He purses his lips in thought.

“Levi,” he says.

“Still trying it out?” Levi’s digging through the kitchen cabinets until he finds their glass bottle of olive oil. He brings it with him as he sits on the floor, between Eren’s legs. He gently kisses the inner bone of Eren’s knee.

“It doesn’t sound weird to you when I say it?” Eren asks.

“No.” Levi works his way upward, trailing his mouth until his lips press against Eren’s inner thigh. He switches to the other leg. “It’s just you, Eren.”

“I feel sometimes,” whispers Eren. His hand still covers his eyes. “Sometimes I realize, I feel most like myself around you. It’s weird to admit. That, with you, I just… I just feel like Eren.”

It’s a compliment that grips right at Levi’s heart.

“What you said earlier,” and Eren’s voice is so vulnerable in the sound. “Will you say it again?”

“That you’re Eren?” asks Levi.

Eren nods.

“Only Eren.” And he kisses Eren’ left knee. He trails up to his thigh. “This is Eren’s,” he says. “Only Eren’s.”

And Eren sighs, damn content. Levi sits beside him on the bed. He takes the wrist laying against Eren’s face and presses his lips against the bone. “No one else,” says Levi. “I wouldn’t waste my time here with anyone else.”

Eren’s looking at him with soft eyes. “Just me,” he says.

“Only you.”

Eren pulls him closer until Levi lies flushed on top of him. And Eren’s ethereal again, just like he was in the bathwater. His hair is splayed against the bed. Levi kisses Eren against his cheekbone, against his jaw, along his neck. He’s muttering Eren’s name like a prayer.

Just Eren. Only Eren. His Eren. His.

When Levi reaches the start of Eren’s pelvis, Eren’s alight. Eren’s groaning from every touch. His skin sits warm beneath Levi’s palms, against Levi’s lips. And when Levi smears his mouth against the start of Eren’s cock, he feels the immediate coil of Eren’s fingers tight between his hair.

“Oh god, oh my god,” Eren whines. “Fuck. _God_.”

Levi steadies Eren’s hips, his immediate and desperate thrusting having produced a gag. When Eren apologizes, his voice sounds unhinged.

And, it’s a good sound. A great sound. Levi wants to hear Eren’s voice break again. He drags his mouth over Eren’s warm skin — once, twice, thrice — before swallowing him whole. And, Eren’s in shambles. Levi repeats the same sets of motion until Eren’s rocking desperately in his mouth.

“Levi—” he says, all breathy, all deep. Breaking in his throat when Levi slides his tongue against Eren’s frenulum. “I can’t—” he manages. “If you keep…”

“You don’t wanna come like this?”

Eren shakes his head. “No, I want more.”

Levi’s lying on his stomach. Open lips still hovering hot above Eren’s dick. He pushes Eren’s legs until they bend up at the knees. He’s gripping the back of Eren’s thighs, his thumbs running circles against the muscle.

“Like what?”

Eren’s a panting mess. “Anything. Everything.”

“You want me in you?”

Eren’s dick visibly twitches. He stifles a whine. “Please. Yes.”

Levi reaches for the bottle of oil on the floorboards. “It’s uncomfortable at first.”

“That’s okay.”

“Alright.” Levi coats his hands in oil. He runs a hand up and down Eren’s cock, sliding up and down the foreskin, as the other presses against the space just beneath his balls. “Try and relax. Think of it like a massage.”

“Yes, sir— No, I mean, Levi _.”_

“It’s alright. Say whatever’s comfortable. I don’t care.”

“I never imagined,” breathes Eren. He shifts his legs wider. Gasps when he feels Levi’s thumb massaging the muscle at his entrance. “That you’d be here, doing this with me. I never— _fuck_!”

“God, you’re so tight,” Levi’s got only half a finger in. His mind is _reeling_ at the thought of burying his cock inside Eren. “Take a breath.”

And Eren does.

“You were saying?”

“Mm,” Eren shifts a little. He clenches his jaw as another finger enters. “I never could have — _Ah, ouch_ — guessed it. I would have thought I would have seen it. In those… In those premonitions I have.”

“Maybe they’re wrong, then. Maybe you got off the road they were leading you down.”

A heavy inhale makes Eren’s chest rise higher. He’s staring at the ceiling, his eyes moving in thought. Levi can feel him relax around his fingers. He presses himself into Eren, all the way to the knuckle.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“Better,” whispers Eren.

“Good.” He watches Eren’s hips rise when his free hand returns to pumping Eren’s cock. When both Levi’s hands start thrusting, Eren’s back arches at the pressure.

“Finally feeling good?”

“Yeah,” groans Eren. “Yes. _Ah_ —”

Levi removes his fingers, slipping out from Eren to wash them with soap in the kitchen sink. Returning to the bed, he uncorks the oil again.

“Maybe the best,” starts Levi, and he’s watching Eren’s eyes. How intensely they stare — transfixed —as Levi’s hands work the oil on his own cock. “Would be on your hands and knees. Least painful way in, I’ve heard.”

Eren complies. Elbows bent and face pressed into a pillow, he releases a shaky breath. Levi fastens a hand on Eren’s hipbone.

“Ready?” asks Levi, but he might as well be asking himself. He could go mad from the feeling — from knowing, _god, fuck_ , this is it. He’ll take Eren. He’ll be in Eren. In this body he adores. Buried to the hilt.

He’s never felt so intoxicated.

Eren nods. He looks over his shoulder. And Levi watches Eren’s face as he readies himself against him. Eren’s warm against the head of Levi’s cock — even before he presses forward, Levi groans at the feeling.

“ _Shit_ —” Eren curses as he’s breached. He slaps a palm against the mattress. “Shit!”

Because: fuck! _Fuck—_! He’s tight. He’s so goddamn warm and tight. The feeling is dizzying. Levi’s jaw goes slack; he doesn’t register the moan that immediately falls from his mouth.

It’s nearly impossible not to shove himself in fully. Levi hangs onto Eren’s hips. He wills himself to stop.

“Tell me when,” Levi grunts. His head is churning in circles. The feeling of Eren around him sparking every nerve he has. “Tell me when to move.”

“Are you all the way in?”

“Not even halfway.”

“Ugh.” Eren groans into the pillow. “I’ve been through worse, but fuck, this hurts.”

“That’s hardly encouraging.”

Levi stares at the body beneath him — the curve of Eren’s spine, the muscles of his back. The pained expression on his face.

No, Levi thinks. I can give him better than that.

He pulls out from Eren, sighing at the loss of friction and warmth. “Sit up,” he says, voice gentle. “Sit against the headboard. Try and get your dick back up.”

“We can keep trying.”

Levi shakes his head. “Just wait here.”

He takes the oil and closes the washroom door behind him. He cleans himself, too impatient to wait for the water to warm. He uncorks the oil again and washes it from his hands once he’s done with it.

Eren’s back is against the headboard when Levi re-enters the room. At least, his dick is hard again.

“I’m sorry,” says Eren. “Did you have to take care of yourself?”

“No,” says Levi. “I didn’t.”

He sits just above Eren’s pelvis, relishing the little gasp from Eren as he does so.

“I figured,” Levi continues, and he sits up on his knees. He balances a hand on Eren’s shoulder. The other he uses to straighten Eren’s dick. “This is easier.”

And then he presses his lips against Eren’s jaw. Says sternly, “Don’t move.”

“ _Captain—_ ” And when Levi brings him in, Eren’s mouth parts. His eyes screw shut. “ _Oh god_ —” he chokes. “Oh _god_.”

“Eren. Don’t thrust. Fuck.”

Levi grits his teeth. He lowers himself slowly; the feeling is odd, so goddamn odd, as Eren fills him. And, goddamn it, why did this bastard have to be so thick?

“Fucking hell,” Levi sighs when he’s seated fully. “Give me a second.”

“Captain.”

“Hm?”

Eren’s staring at Levi’s face. He looks utterly _infatuated_.

“You just… You look so… I’ve never seen you look like this.” Eren’s trying for words. “Just, uh… Beautiful. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Levi snorts. Funny how he had always thought that way of Eren.

“An easy compliment to give when someone’s sitting on your dick.”

Eren shakes his head. He rests two shaking hands on Levi’s hips. “No. It’s not that. It’s really not that.”

“Hm.” Levi tries moving. He’s gripping Eren’s shoulders for balance. The short rise in his hips sends Eren’s head backwards, hitting the wooden headboard with a ‘ _bang_.’

“Don’t pass out,” mutters Levi.

Eren groans. “I could from this. _Ah_.”

It’s feeling better. Not great, but better. Levi lets himself rise and fall in tepid strokes. Still stings, but as he watches Eren’s face it starts feeling good, good, _great_.

Because, god, this boy is lewd. His expression is utterly _stained_ in pleasure. He’s loud. He breathes heavily. He stares at Levi with half-lidded eyes.

“Levi,” Eren gasps, and, shit, his name sounds good in Eren’s mouth. “Do you feel good? Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it.” And he does.

“Good — _ah_ — I want you to feel good. I want you to feel good when my dick’s in you.”

_Oh._

Eren’s words damn well _unravel_ him; Levi swallows down a noise. Eren’s hips are moving to meet his, pressing flush and hard against Levi’s ass with every rise and fall.

“Because you feel good,” says Eren. The depth in his voice is more than Levi can bear. “You feel so good.”

Levi lets himself lean forward. Both arms wrapped around Eren’s neck, he leverages that weight to suspend himself mid-air; and he’s almost _proud_ of how quick Eren is to understand. How much strength Eren has in his hands as he holds Levi’s hips still. He drives his dick into Levi with quick, hard thrusts.

“I couldn’t have imagined this,” says Eren, and it’s so obvious just how lost in this moment he is. Levi hasn’t heard him talk so blissfully in _years_. “To be fucking you right now. And, calling you by your first name.”

“Say it, then.”

“ _Levi_.”

No ‘captain.’ No ‘sir.’ Until death, it’s only in this moment they’re as equal as they could ever be. Just two needing, desperate fools trying to find hope in the other.

“I’m so close,” struggles Eren.

“Already?”

“Fuck,” Eren groans. His jaw goes slack. “I’ve been trying not to come since you first sat on my dick.”

Levi’s warm breath escapes in a smile. Eren whines at the expression, clearly overwhelmed, and presses his lips against Levi’s.

“What should I do?” and Eren’s voice is ragged when he pulls back.

“Come, idiot.”

“No,” and he’s at his limit; voice breaking in their words. It sounds like begging. “ _Where_?”

And it’s so naive and blunt of a question. Innocent, and kind. In the washroom mirror, Levi had caught a glance of himself as he scrubbed and stretched every lower bit; knew, despite the tight thrill of apprehension in his stomach, that once he crawled onto that bed, he expected Eren to make a mess out of him.

But here Levi was now, being asked for permission. 

He’s never had anything like it.

“In me,” and it rattles Levi how _needing_ his own voice sounds. “In me, Eren. Come in me.”

And the expression on this boy’s face — Levi could love it forever. And, the sound he makes — fuck, better than any other.

Levi’s hands are holding Eren’s face as he comes. “That’s it. That’s it,” Levi’s whispering, and he knows, the aching in his chest borders on something like love.

Spent, Eren leans against him, his mouth open and panting against Levi’s shoulder. Eren presses his lips there, lazy and repetitive in the action.

“Oh my god,” says Eren. His eyelashes flutter against Levi’s skin. He says again, utterly drained: “Oh my god.”

Levi’s staring at the ceiling — at the same peeling spot of paint that had looked so different the day before. Here he was, in Eren’s lap. Eren’s cum hot inside him.

_What a fucking thought._

“How long did it take you?” mutters Eren.

“Hm?”

“After how many attempts or tries, until you could, like… I don’t know.”

“Have a dick up my ass?”

Eren nods against his shoulder.

“This was the first time,” says Levi.

“What?”

“…What is it?”

Eren’s head snaps up. “With me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“You hadn’t done that before,” repeats Eren.

“Usually I’m the one fucking, yeah.”

“Have you just… Never had the opportunity? To…?”

Levi rolls his eyes.

“I just didn’t have the interest.”

Eren’s lips part. He’s searching for something in Levi’s face.

Until—

“Thank you,” Eren whispers.

“Tch,” and Levi feels the heat crawl onto his ears. “Don’t act like that. Let’s get clean.”

The bed will need a thorough wash in the morning. They take a bath together. Levi’s drying his hair in front of the mirror when Eren says:

“You didn’t come.”

“You don’t always have to.”

From behind him in the mirror, Levi watches Eren drag a towel down his leg.

“I wanted to be able to make you, though.” Eren’s eyes meet Levi’s in the glass. “I’m relaxed now.”

And, hell, isn’t that just like Eren?

Levi can’t hide his smirk. 

He lays Eren on his back this time. Hair haloed on the bed sheets, just like it belongs. It’s no feat to get him hard again; it’s easy to get hard himself.

This time, Levi doubles the amount of oil. Preps him with three fingers instead of two. Eren’s legs are bent around Levi’s waist. Eren watches, mouth parted, as Levi eases in.

And, god, the feeling is overwhelming. The back of Levi’s eyes sting; what the fuck is wrong with him, to equate this moment to witnessing god?

“Just direct me,” says Levi. The heat. The pressure. The feeling is so much more than he’s ever had. He reasons himself steady — tries hard not to lose himself in an unhinged love confession.

Eren’s brow is furrowed. Of course there’s pain, but he’s grunting through it. “Just get in fast,” he says. “I didn’t like it slow. Just get in fast.”

An easy request. Levi complies. He breathes hot and unsteady into Eren’s clavicle while Eren’s legs, his arms, his entire body, is gripping tight around him.

He hears Eren release a staggering breath. He can feel Eren’s heart thrashing through his ribcage.

“You ready if I start moving?” Levi asks.

Eren nods, and at the first pull of movement, his nails dig into Levi’s shoulder blades. He curses at the feeling.

“Just bear with it a little longer,” coos Levi. Slowly, he dips back in; eases himself out. “Once I get a rhythm, it’s better.”

“Okay,” Eren pants. He licks his bottom lip. “Do I feel good?”

Levi’s speeding up his pace. “Better than anything I’ve ever had.”

Eren makes a contented noise.

“Captain, earlier when I was in you—” but Eren’s voice cuts out: overcome with a sudden moan.

“Better angle?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck, I think so. ‘S especially nice when you go fast like — _Ah_ …”

And Levi’s buried to the hilt; both hands gripping the curve of Eren’s hip bones as he fucks him fast. And god, as he drives himself into Eren, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen. The expression on Eren’s face as he lays keening against the mattress almost spills Levi over the edge.

Eren breathes hard. His pupils look blown. “Like that,” he confirms, chest heaving.

“Uh-huh.” Levi’s pace slows back to something comfortable and steady. He runs a thumb up the shaft of Eren’s swollen cock.

“ _Oh_ —”

“What were you saying before?”

“That— _Ah_.” Eren’s hips give a little thrust. Levi’s hand is coated in precome. “When I was in you, I thought: I could finally die happy.”

“We’ll still keep that from happening.”

_Grow old with me._

_Please._

_Let me watch you grow old._

Levi traces his lips against Eren’s. “There can be more of this, if you’ll have it.”

“Yes,” Eren gasps. His voice sounds tensed; ready to cry out at any moment. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“In this damn little apartment,” says Levi. “I’ll bend you over the kitchen table...”

“ _Levi_ —” 

“Or, in Paradis. I’ll make such a mess of you, that everyone will question it in the morning.”

Eren breaks. “I’m so close. I’ll—”

“And we’ll switch the next day. I’ll wear your hickies on my neck—”

Eren loses it. He spills against Levi’s stomach in a gasp; back arching, his body shakes as he comes. And that’s it, _that’s it_ — Levi fucks Eren through his orgasm, and he’s so close to his own. His own ears are thrumming with his heartbeat; eyes watering at the pathetic wish he would give up the world to make true.

To have Eren — this Eren, that unfurls at his fingertips; or the Eren, his Eren, five-hundred meters toward the sun; or even Eren, his Eren, shattering in gutter water.

He’ll have it. He’ll have it all. Every damn facet. Levi knows he cannot fix him. He knows he cannot heal him. But he will always — _he will always_ — untangle him from the rafters.

He kisses Eren as he comes.

Their skin is warm. The room is warm. Everything feels warm as they lay curled on the bed.

Levi’s on his side, the ends of his hair still damp from the night’s second (well, for Eren, _third_ ) bath. He rests with his eyes closed. He’s exhausted. A bit hungry. Slightly sentimental.

He can feel Eren just a hand’s distance from him where he lays on his stomach, head tilted toward Levi. In the quiet, Eren says:

“When I would leave for a long time, sometimes, it was Zeke I was talking to.”

“Hm.” It should rile Levi, but, instead, the confession swells in his chest — they are words that, maybe in another lifetime, he wouldn’t have been given. He’s thankful for it. He can feel the weight of them. 

“And how’s my least favorite motherfucker?” he asks.

Eren ignores the comment. “After Hanji gets here, or whoever comes, I’ll take you to him. We’ll take him with us.” 

Levi cracks open an eye. 

“You’ll take that risk, then? Watch him rot for a year and see if he keels over?”

Eren looks wistful; a small smile and downturned eyes. He touches hair away from Levi’s face. 

“I think so,” he whispers, before he voice gets firmer: “I’ll take it.”

“Hm.”

Eren’s hand is warm. This bed is warm. Levi feels warm. Levi feels happy — it’s a goodness utterly foreign to him.

“Captain,” whispers Eren; even his voice is warm. “When you came, your eyes were wet.”

Levi sighs. 

“It was a good orgasm.”

He isn’t sure if Eren believes him — maybe one day, Levi will tell him the truth.

“Anyway.” Levi’s tone is low. Tired. “The past… Three hours. Good distraction?” 

“Distraction?”

“Two orgasms not enough?”

“Huh?” Eren sits up. They’re naked, still. Will likely sleep like this — which is nice. Less clothes to wash.

“That wasn’t—” starts Eren. “That wasn’t about a distraction.”

“What was it, then?”

“Captain...“

And Eren’s stops. 

He tries again:

“Levi.”

And Levi realizes: Eren makes his name feel like music; like those burning, slow notes that burn warm beneath his sternum. Even in death, Levi will think of Eren’s lips around his name. 

“Everything,” says Eren. “I’m giving everything to you— I’m _trusting_ everything to you, even if I’m afraid to.”

Levi shifts onto his back. 

“Don’t—”

“No, listen. Please.” And Eren leans forward, bent like in prayer. He rests his forehead against the dip in Levi’s chest.

And Eren’s voice is kind. Eren’s voice is gentle. Eren’s voice, maybe, borders on something as warm as love. 

“It’s me crawling out from the grave for you… Captain—No, Levi. Levi. _Levi_ , I’ll crawl out from the grave for you.”

This time, Levi cannot hide the wet in his eyes. 

  
  


There is sunlight in the harbor. There is blue in the sky. A cold wind skating off the sea touches the curve of their ears. A pink hue from the chill has formed on the tip of Eren’s nose; his chin is tilted upward. He watches the gulls. 

“I see them,” says Levi. He bumps his shoulder against Eren’s. The harbor is busy, and in this mess they stand beside one another. “Although, I heard and saw four-eyes first, before I saw the rest of them.”

“‘Them?’”

It’s Mikasa that sees them before the others. Then Armin. Finally, Hanji. The cold, white light of the morning reflects upon their faces, made red from the outpouring of wind as they rode across the sea. Mikasa breaks from beside Armin; in her pleated skirt and coat, she weaves through the dense crowd. Her hair has gotten shorter; her red scarf billowing behind her. 

“There!” and Armin’s mouth is parted in an open smile as he shouts. His hand touches Hanji’s arm. He points in Mikasa’s direction before mimicking her trail. Over the crowd’s hum, Levi hears him call back to Hanji: “I see Captain! I see Eren!”

There is sunlight in the harbor. There is blue in the sky. Levi watches Mikasa embrace Eren within it, her arms curling tight beneath his shoulders. She stands on the edges of her toes.

Eren embraces her in return.

“Captain…!” Armin’s panting as he approaches. His mouth is still wide; his eyes squinted in mirth. “Captain,” he says again, and he’s panting over his knees. “I’m glad to see you. I’m glad to see you, and Eren—”

Levi nods his head. “Go join the reunion.” 

There is sunlight in the harbor. There is blue in the sky. As Levi steps away to track the path toward Hanji, he overhears Armin:

 _“It’s gonna be alright. Eren, it’s gonna be alright—_ ”

“Oi, shitty glasses.”

Levi raises a hand as he stops beside Hanji. And, Hanji’s watching them — Armin, Eren, Mikasa — as they hold one another in the harbor; as they bury their heads in one another's shoulders. 

Near Hanji, an old ship groans as it sturdies itself along the docks. Levi reaches out an arm; slaps his palms against their shoulder. 

Hanji smiles in return

“Miss me?” they ask.

“Barely.”

“Mm, sounds like a lie.”

“Tch.”

Hanji settles an arm around Levi; leans all their weight onto him. Face bobbing low. “So?”

“It’ll be a long trip home,” he offers. And Levi has imagined it already: the careening of the ship as it cuts through the water; the somber tone of Eren’s voice as he incriminates himself within its hull; the yellow grooves of sand as they breach Paradis’ border. 

“There’s a lot for Eren to say, but you’ll hear it all,” continues Levi. “And I already beat him over the head for all of his insubordination.”

“Uh-huh...” Hanji’s tone slides in disbelief. 

Levi snorts. _Is he that bad at lying?_

“Just assume I did,” says Levi lowly. “Anyway. We’ll be taking the damn monkey too.”

Hanji’s spine straightens in bewilderment. With a crack of a laugh, they howl: 

“You’re _kidding_!” 

“We’ll go amputate the fucker tomorrow most likely.” Levi slips out from Hanji’s weight. “So plan to be here for a night.”

“And any of Grisha’s memories?”

Levi shakes his head. “No answers on that.”

Hanji smiles; it’s gentle. Their eye creases at the corners. 

“I guess I’ll just keep up the good news, then.”

And from across the crowd, Levi catches Eren’s expression. Wide-eyed, open-mouthed, Eren’s looking at him. 

Even while Armin and Mikasa talk, even as the shadows of strangers pass between them, Eren is looking at him. 

“It was over thirteen years,” says Hanji. 

And the breath trembles out from Levi’s lungs. 

“ _What_?”

“Levi.” And Hanji must know the weight of their words. Must have seen how Levi’s soul had sparked. “Grisha lived over thirteen years. With Shadis, we found his original arrest record, from when he was first found outside the walls.”

Eren is looking at him. Eren is looking at him. Levi’s heart is ringing like a hymn in his ears; it thuds within his throat. Eren is looking at him. Eren is looking at him. 

“It’s only one source,” says Hanji. “But it’s even enough for Historia to take a chance on.”

“He’ll live.”

Eren is looking at him. Through the crowd. Through the stumbling of voices. Cloaked in the sunlight in the harbor, beneath the blue of the sky, Eren is looking at him — not at the omen across the sea, not at the faces of strangers that would have otherwise bled beneath his heel. 

Eren looks at Levi.

And, he smiles. 

“It’s a long road ahead of us,” says Hanji. “Not everything can be so easily fixed—”Levi shakes his head.

“We have the time.”

In the light of the harbor, beneath the blue of the sky, there is a future. 

And that future has Eren. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic would have not existed were it not for [Shittyfoureyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittyfoureyes/pseuds/shittyfoureyes), for who I want to say: thank you for loving canon as much as I do, thank you for the inspiration your gift request gave me, and I hope that this fic was one that you enjoyed. 
> 
> To everyone else, thank you so much for reading. It’s because of my readers and commenters that I continue writing. I hope you know how much your thoughts make this little hobby worth it (spoiler: you 100% make this hobby worth it). 
> 
> AND with all of my heart, a million thanks to one of my best and dearest friends, [Fluffyboots](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffyboots/pseuds/Fluffyboots), who read and beta’d this monster. I love you just as much as I love butter. 
> 
> Finally, there’s an amazing meta writer that put so much of how I view Eren’s character into perspective. To call this think-piece an ‘inspiration’ for my fic is selling it short — the understanding Yaboylevi has for Eren’s thought processes during this timeframe is just incredible; I used it constantly as a sense of direction whenever I pondered over Eren’s characterization. You can read it [here.](https://yaboylevi.tumblr.com/post/189138601526/does-erens-question-mean-that-he-has-a-cruch-on)
> 
> For further information and updates on my fics, or if you would just like to see general SNK/Ereri content, please feel free to check me out on [Tumblr](https://templemap.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> To all who read, I hope you enjoyed.


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